


The Dream Chaser

by taeyongseo



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Dreams, Happy Ending, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2020-04-22 23:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 69,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19138753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeyongseo/pseuds/taeyongseo
Summary: The first night Mark arrives in his new hometown, he dreams of Haechan, the boy with the sharp smile and an even sharper tongue. When Mark finds out that Haechan is the same boy who went missing the night after Mark arrived, he's willing to do anything to find him.





	1. Welcome to Hell, Oregon

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [The Dream Chaser [Traducción]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072321) by [Dear_Rosie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dear_Rosie/pseuds/Dear_Rosie)



> Hello, hello! 
> 
> I'm back, and with another long fic, too. (My mama would be so proud.) I've been sitting on this idea for a very long time, and I'm beyond excited to finally be writing my little big small town mystery AU. By the nature of this AU, I have to keep the tags and summary vague for now, but I hope you're still interested to discover what this story's all about along with me. I swear it's gonna be good! (At least I hope it will be, whoops.) As always, I hope from the bottom of my heart that you enjoy! 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of complete fiction. This work does not reflect upon the real life people mentioned in this fictional story, and the non-fictive people named are not affiliated with this story in any way. The story and its characters belong to me. Do not repost anywhere and do not print/distribute.

The first night Mark dreamed of Haechan was the night he arrived in Hell.

He was woken up by the screeching of brakes, his body straining against the seatbelt as Taeyong brought their car to a hard stop. Dazed, Mark lifted his head from the passenger window, blinking his eyes rapidly to keep them open. A short glance at the dashboard told him that it was nearly one in the morning.

“What’s happening?” He spied out of the window to find it surrounded by darkness still. “Are we there?”

“No.” Taeyong didn’t take his eyes off the road as he shook his head, his arms working to turn the steering wheel. “We’re about half an hour out, but they’ve got 24/7 service here.”

The entire car moved up and down when they pulled off the road and then Mark could see that they were rolling onto the dimly-lit lot of a gas station. “Oh.”

Ignoring the crick in his neck, he leaned forward to fiddle with the dials of the car radio, shutting it off. It had been barely nine when he had dropped off, lulled to sleep by the steady hum of the car engine and the _ABBA Greatest Hits_ CD that Taeyong had gotten from an ex-boyfriend for his last birthday.

Taeyong had ended things with the guy two days after his birthday (unrelated to the ABBA CD) and in a fit of karma, fate had decided to break the car radio, permanently jamming the CD in the reader. They had initially used the aux cord to play music, but some five hours into their drive, Mark’s phone had died and Taeyong had shut off his own to save battery in case of an emergency. So, they were stuck listening to Super Trouper on repeat until they made it to Hell. Mark’s own personal, as well as the small town in Oregon Taeyong had deemed their new home.

Mark burrowed deeper into his seat as soon as Taeyong had killed the engine. “Can I stay in the car?”

“Not a chance.”

Mark scowled, but a single, stern look from Taeyong had him unbuckling his seat belt.

“Do you think we’ll die of food poisoning if we buy sandwiches here?” Mark asked as they made their way across the lot. The night’s air was cold and damp, sending shivers down his spine. He pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt.

Taeyong shot him a dark look as he held the door to the gas station open, but Mark could see the hesitation creep into his gaze. “Maybe we’ll just stick to sealed snacks and coffee for now.”

The inside of the gas station was just as dingy as the outside had made it look like. Mark supposed that was the way it ought to be when you willingly moved yourself to the middle of buttfuck nowhere. The clerk behind the counter, a stocky man in his late fifties, shot them a curt nod before he turned back to his autosport magazine.

Mark grabbed two bags of chips and a handful of Snickers bars from the nearest shelf before he made his way over to the coffee self-serve. While he waited for Taeyong’s cup to fill, he read the bulletin board that hung above the machine. It was filled with countless ads for fishing equipment, a flyer for the spring musical that the local high school was putting on and, dead in the center, a poster showcasing a scantily-clad woman changing the tire of her red convertible. _Watch Your Curves!_ it said at the top of the poster and below it were the contact details of a local tire company.

Mark took Taeyong’s phone out of his pocket, switched it on and snapped a picture of the bulletin board before he sent it to Renjun with the words _five minutes in and I’ve already gotten gayer - Mark._ He knew if not Renjun, it would make Yukhei laugh at least.

The thought of his old friends left a bitter taste in Mark’s mouth and so he moved away from the coffee machine, careful not to spill any of the beverages as he moved towards the counter. Taeyong was already there, asking for directions from the clerk. Taeyong’s laugh turned awkward when the clerk grabbed onto his hand to guide his finger over the map and Mark hissed as some of the hot coffee from his cup spilled over his fingers.

Unceremoniously, he dropped their snacks onto the counter, the commotion enough to make both Taeyong and the clerk look at him.

“Sorry,” Mark said in the politest tone he could muster, “do you have any lids for these?”

The clerk nodded at the staple of plastic lids next to the register and Mark grabbed two off the stack. “Thanks.”

“Thank you for the help, too,” Taeyong added, pulling out their map from under the rest of their purchases.

The clerk’s gaze lingered on Taeyong’s mouth as he punched in their total and Mark swallowed down the urge to reach over and smash the man’s face into the register. Mark was used to people leering at Taeyong, drawn in by Taeyong’s lithe body and angelic face, and Mark had been able to brush it off before, but enduring it was worse now, now that he knew exactly what the man in front of them was thinking, had read it a thousand times over online. Mark searched Taeyong’s face for any sign of discomfort that might have given him the get-go, but Taeyong’s smile was nothing but polite as he handed the clerk his card.

“That guy was a creepy old fuck,” Mark said as soon as they had made it out of the store, the plastic bag with their snacks in hand.

“Don’t talk like that.” Taeyong frowned at him over the brim of his coffee cup. He unlocked their car with a sigh. Whether that was because of Mark’s potty-mouth or the abysmal taste of the coffee, Mark didn’t know. “There’s no need to incorporate the f-word into every single one of your sentences, you know.”

“Jot it down on the eternally growing list of my fuck-ups.”

“Mark Lee,” Taeyong threatened and maybe Mark would have pushed it, but there was no heat to Taeyong’s words. He simply sounded tired.

Mark felt guilt tugging on his stomach. “Sorry.”

Taeyong’s expression softened. “Get in the car. We’re almost there, so we shouldn’t linger.” He spied into the plastic bag before opening the driver’s door. “And give me one of those Snickers bars.”

Mark obliged with a smile. When Mark had moved in with him for the first time, Taeyong had made it his life mission to incorporate every green on the planet into Mark’s diet. He had blended cauliflower into Mark’s mashed potatoes and placed double the amount of lettuce on his sandwiches, but if there was one thing that even Taeyong hadn’t been able to ban from their pantries, it was chocolate. Taeyong had a sweet tooth and indulging it helped combat his grumpiness eighty percent of the time.

“I got you shrimp crackers, too.”

Taeyong let out a satisfied sigh as he wedged his coffee cup into the cup holder. Mark took a sip from his own, scrunching up his nose at the taste. He had been right. It did taste abysmal.

“Seat belt,” Taeyong reminded him as he put the car in reverse.

Mark unwrapped one of the Snickers bars, shoving it into Taeyong’s awaiting mouth before he buckled in. A flick against the car radio caused it to spring to life. With the chipper first tunes of _Waterloo_ filling the car, they pulled off the gas station lot.

*

 _This is where old people come to die_ , Mark realised as he looked up at their new house. It was small, a two-story colonial home that looked like it had been built in those times as well. Everything from the outgrown bushes lining the driveway to the chipped, grey paint of the wooden exterior made Mark want to get back into the car and drive straight back to New York City, but he knew that there was no going back now. _For your sake,_ Taeyong had told him, even though it had been a lie. Half of one.

The first front porch step gave a dangerous creak when he set his foot on it.

“I know the house needs some work, but I’ve found this five-star rated construction company on Yelp and the guy will be over first thing Monday morning.”

Somewhere around his third Snickers bar and the rest of Mark’s coffee, Taeyong had regained his optimism. Only the tufts of his pink hair stuck out over the edge of the moving boxes he was carrying when he walked past Mark, stopping short in front of the front door as he struggled to fumble the keys out of his back pocket.

Mark pulled the drawstrings of his hoodie tighter before he went to help him. Normally, he loved to see Taeyong in his happy, caffeinated state, but after having spent the past two days cooped up in a car with him, Mark had grown thoroughly sick of being in the same space as him. He spared Taeyong the thought as he followed him into the house.

The inside of the house was just as _quaint_ as the outside. Yellowed tapestry and wooden floors greeted them, a thick layer of dust covering every outdated piece of furniture. Mark would have been worried about his allergies, hadn’t he known that by the time the sun rose, Taeyong would have vacuumed, dusted and laundered the entire place to completion.

“You can pick which room you want, but take at least one of those boxes with you. Both are yours.”

Mark huffed as he grabbed both boxes from Taeyong’s arms. “If I break my legs going up those stairs, you’re responsible.”

Taeyong shot him a look as he made a beeline for the kitchen. “You’ll live.”

Once he had made it up the rickety, narrow staircase, Mark was tempted to head for the master bedroom, but he thought better of it once he spotted the ugly, floral-patterned tapestry. The second bedroom was considerably smaller, but still almost twice as big as Mark’s old bedroom in their apartment in Queens. He found himself grinning when he saw that there was an en-suite bathroom.

He set down the moving boxes near the window before he flopped himself onto the twin-sized bed in the corner. The bare mattress creaked under his weight, but the bed didn’t collapse, so Mark settled in. He thought that he should have put sheets on the bed, plugged his phone charger into the socket next to the door, at least taken off his shoes, but the moment his head hit the pillow, he felt the exhaustion of the past couple of days on the road take over him. His eyelids grew heavy and before he knew it, he had dropped off.

*

In his dream, Mark came to lying on his back, facing a cloudless, green sky. He blinked. No, not the sky. The sky was grey. What was between him and the sky was green. He was looking at a canopy of trees. Swallowing the headache pounding at the back of his skull, Mark sat up. He was in the woods, he realised, cold seeping through the bottom of his jeans as he took in his surroundings. The smell of leaves and wet earth was heavy in the air, filling his lungs with every breath.

It was the sound of twigs cracking, leaves crunching that made him realise he wasn’t alone. Jolting to his feet, Mark spun around. He had spent the past year sleeping with one eye open and so the his body moved to defend himself on autopilot, one fist coming up to guard his face while the other drew forward.

His punch hit nothing but thin air. Mark scowled and then, there was laughter behind him, hot air hitting the back of his neck.

“You missed.”  

Mark whirled around, keeping his hands by his side this time. “Who the fuck are you?”

Mark regretted his words the second they had left his mouth. The boy standing in front of him wasn’t a threat. In fact, the most threatening thing about him seemed to be the obscene neon orange colour of his sweatshirt.

“You seem angry,” the boy observed.

Mark felt the weird urge to reach out and run his fingers through the grayish-brown strands of the boy’s hair. It looked soft and was streaked with different shades of pastel. Mark suppressed the urge and followed the boy’s gaze down to his own shaking hands. He balled them into fists before he hid them behind his back.

“I’m not angry.”

“Liar.” The boy laughed at him, and normally Mark would have gotten angry at the insinuation alone, but the high trill of the boy’s voice left him dazed. It left him smiling.

“I’m dreaming,” Mark realised.

The boy weighed his head to one side. “Yes.”

“Who are you?”

The boy looked pleased. “Hah! You do have manners! It’s rude to just drop the f-bomb on people, you know. You should have asked properly the first time.”

Mark scowled. “You sound like my brother.”

“Is he the reason you’re so angry?”

Mark felt himself falter. The boy wasn’t a threat but he was sharp, his mind and his gaze and the way in which he spoke. “No.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Yes, you are!” the boy gave back, sounding just as indignant as Mark had before he broke off into laughter.  

Mark felt the air escape from his lungs when the boy took a step towards him and, heaving with laughter still, tapped Mark on the forehead. Mark blinked in confusion before the boy took another step forward, invading his space. His breath was hot on Mark’s face, smelling of chewing gum. “Tag, you’re it!”

“What?” Mark stuttered out, but the boy had already taken off, dashing for the trees surrounding them. “Hey!”

“Catch me if you can!” the boy’s voice trilled from the forest, resounding from every direction and Mark felt his heart pick up pace as his feet did.

“Wait for me!” he called out, but there was no response and so he ran, blindly into the forest, chasing after the strange boy from his even stranger dream.

*

They spent the better part of their Sunday unpacking.

Much like Mark had anticipated, he stumbled downstairs late the next morning to find the floors sweeped clean, the furniture dusted and Taeyong lying sprawled out in the middle of the living room floor, passed out clinging to a box of clorox wipes. Mark rolled his eyes as he stepped over him. He could hear the music blasting from Taeyong’s earphones as he crouched down and carefully slipped his arms under his brother’s body.

Mark himself wasn't necessarily a big guy, nothing close to Yukhei, who had easily been able to bench-press Mark and Renjun both, but he was still strong enough to pick his brother up and carry him upstairs, into the master bedroom that he had surrendered to Taeyong.

He made sure to fish Taeyong’s phone from the pocket of his pink booty shorts, changing the music from aggressive rap to mellow piano music before he left to get started on the moving boxes waiting downstairs. He had almost finished unpacking all the boxes labelled ‘ _kitchen - don’t touch!!!’_ by the time Taeyong came stumbling downstairs, squinting as he felt for the coffee machine that Mark had set up first thing.

“A little bit to your right,” Mark advised as he sorted their mismatched array of tablespoons into the cutlery drawer.

Taeyong threw a stray dish towel at him before he pulled the coffee pot from the burner and took a swig straight from the pot. Mark grinned at the sight. This was his older brother, who had taught him to keep his elbows off the table while eating, enslaved by the gods of caffeine.

“Okay,” Taeyong said once he had put the coffee pot back in its place and his eyes had fully opened, “now I’m awake.”

Mark snickered at him, though it turned into a pout when Taeyong took the plastic container with the cutlery away from him.

“You’re seriously not going to let me put away the knives? I’m eighteen years old, Yong, I’m not gonna grab them blade first.”

“Oh, please.” Taeyong clacked his tongue and Mark had to shake off the thought of how much that particular gesture of parental disapproval made him look like their father, long gone as he was. “It’s not you I’m worried about. Those are Wüsthof knives. They shouldn’t go into the drawer, though I suppose--” Taeyong stilled--”I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Taeyong’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he picked the knives out of the container, lining them up on the kitchen counter with careful movements despite his words.

Mark swallowed down the lump forming in his throat, forced his muscles to relax as he plastered a smile onto his own face. “Uh, Yong, I’ve been breathing in the dust from these drawers all day, I’m going to step out for a moment, yeah?”

Taeyong only hummed in acknowledgement, his eyes remaining on the kitchen knives. Mark didn’t know what emotion was more prominent in his brother’s eyes, reverence or heartbreak. It all came together as longing and Mark couldn’t breathe.   

He made a beeline for the kitchen door, pulling open the flimsy fly screen door before he pushed open the side door and stumbled down the steps that lead him onto their driveway. The gravel crunched beneath his sneakers as he sprint-walked the short distance to the back of the house and let himself fall back against the wall, sliding down the varnished panelling.

He kept his eyes on the sky as he breathed, breathed against the spark in his guts that threatened to set fire to his insides.

_Is your brother the reason you’re so angry?_

Balling his hands into fists, Mark allowed himself to hit the ground, just once.

 _Yes,_ he wanted the tell the high trill of laughter echoing in his mind, _but only because they hurt him._

It felt good to admit it to himself, even if he couldn’t say the words out loud, had never been able to before. As he sat on the ground, his mind drifted to thoughts of sun-kissed skin and pastel dye, full lips quirking into a mocking smile that made his heart stutter. He couldn’t pinpoint where these thoughts were coming from, but they were enough to make the simmering beneath his skin subside. Once he felt calm enough, he pulled himself to his feet.

Taeyong smiled at him when he came back inside, cautious and knowing, and Mark felt the knot in his chest loosen. Despite being several years younger than him, Mark had long caught up to Taeyong height-wise and so he had no problem throwing his arms around his brother in a surprise hug. It caught Taeyong off-guard, but he didn’t hesitate to squeeze Mark right back.

“Thank you,” Mark murmured into the pink tufts of hair tickling his nose.

He was thankful that Taeyong didn’t ask him what for, only squeezed him tighter before he pulled away. “Mark, you know I’m always on your side, yeah?”

Mark nodded. He did know. “I’ll try to make it work here,” he promised.

“Okay,” Taeyong said eventually, breaking their moment by stepping away. “Let’s finish unpacking these boxes and then I’ll order us some pizza.”

Mark gasped. “Pizza? You’re gonna let me have saturated fats?”

Taeyong rolled his eyes. “I may be older than you, but I’m not stupid, Mark. I’m sure after eight years of you and Yukhei sneaking McDonald’s into your room every Friday night, I’m allowed to slack off on parenting duties for one night.”

Mark sighed contentedly as he moved on to pry open another moving box. “You’re the best, Yong.”

“Keep that up,” Taeyong hummed, “and I might order tiramisu for dessert too.”

“As if your sugar-addicted ass wouldn’t have done so anyways.”

Laughing, Mark dodged the plastic cup flying at this head.

*

In his dream, Mark watched as the boy plucked another daisy from the damp grass below them and despite the cold seeping through the bottom of his pants, Mark felt calm as he watched him braid the daisy into the wreath he was working on, his nimble fingers twisting the stems until they were intertwined. It was quiet here, in the forest that Mark had dreamed for them. Mark breathed in and marvelled at how clean the air tasted, how devoid of smog it seemed to be.

“I like the way it smells here.”

Maybe it was a dumb city boy thing to say, but Mark knew, instinctively, that the boy wouldn’t hold it against him. Laugh at him maybe, but Mark didn’t mind that.

“Petrichor,” the boy said without looking up from where his fingers kept moving. “The smell of earth after rain, that’s what that’s called.”

Mark took a moment to absorb the information. “I never knew there was a name for that.”

This time, the boy did look up at him. “Everything has a name, it just depends on whether you know it or not.”

The twinkle in his eyes was mischievous and Mark longed to reach out and touch him. “You never told me your name.”

“Well,” the boy pondered that for a moment, “what do you think it is?”

Mark would have scoffed at the question, but something about the earnest expectancy in the boy’s gaze, the gentle quirk to his smile made Mark pause. Mark looked at him for as long as he could before he had to avert his eyes. He averted them to the sky, cloudless and grey and so very pale against the boy in front of him, who was bright and warm and made Mark’s blood sing.

“Haechan,” he said.

When he dared to lower his gaze, Haechan was smiling at him, as radiant as the name Mark had given him. “Haechan, I like that. Thank you.”

Haechan settled, as if he was wholly content with the world and himself and Mark wondered what that felt like before he realised that Haechan had never asked him back.

“Wait, don’t you want to ask me what my name is?” Mark needed a moment to realise why the thought that Haechan didn’t care made him frown. He wanted Haechan to care. He wanted Haechan to care to know his name like he knew the name of the smell of earth after rain. He wanted Haechan to care to know him.

“I don’t need to ask.”

Despite his bemusement, Mark leaned forward when Haechan lifted the flower crown he had made so he could place it on Mark’s head. A part of him preened at the admiration in Haechan’s eyes. Mark straightened out his back, turned his head in every which way so Haechan could admire his handiwork.

“You don’t need to?”

"No," the boy laughed. "I don’t need to ask because I already know. Your name is Dream."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Hell and many of its inhabitants. 
> 
> Kudos and comments make me very happy, thank you!
> 
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	2. Ignition Sequence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, let's go! (This ended up being twice as long as the first, oops.)

It was barely seven a.m. by the time Taeyong pulled up to the curb in front of the school. The school grounds were as good as empty, less than a dozen cars filling up the car park. Together, they peered out of the passenger window.

“Do you want me to go in with you?”

Mark shook his head. “Nah.”

He had said it too quickly. Hurt flashed in Taeyong’s eyes and Mark bit down on the inside of his cheek. “I mean, you have to get back home to meet the construction dude and I’m eighteen anyways. If there’s anything to sign, I can do it myself.”

Taeyong nodded, his fingers dancing over the steering wheel. Mark caught them before Taeyong could put them anywhere near his teeth. He smiled at the barely concealed worry in Taeyong’s eyes.

“I’ll be fine, Yong. I’ll do my best to keep a low profile. Besides, the place is called Hell High School, so how bad can it be?”

Taeyong’s lips twitched into a smile before he squeezed Mark’s hands. “I’ll be at the diner until about eight, so you’ll have to take the bus back. I put the bus pass into your bag, along with some money for lunch if you don’t like what I made you, but don’t buy anything greasy with it, you hear me? If anything happens do not hesitate to call me, okay? I’ll have my phone on vibrate.”

“All right, Sergeant.”

Mark dodged the slap Taeyong aimed at his chest by pushing open the passenger door. He slid out of the passenger seat, leaning back into the car before Taeyong could drive away. “Hey, Yong?”

Taeyong was already busy checking the rear-view mirror. “Yeah?”

“Good luck at your new gig. You’re gonna do great.”

Taeyong stilled, his expression softening as he met Mark’s eyes. “Thank you. Try not to get in trouble, okay?”

Mark smiled. “Not on the first day.”

He threw the passenger window shut, waited until Taeyong had driven away before he turned towards the school building. Mark wanted to regret that he had spent the past year thrashing around in anger instead of taking the classes they had offered him to get his diploma, but then there was little sense in regretting much of anything that he couldn’t change, so he slung his backpack over his shoulder and steadily walked towards the entrance doors.

Mark revelled in the quiet of the deserted halls as he followed the arrows on the walls to the administrative office. He was thankful for the air-conditioning that greeted him once he had made his way inside, though he knew that he’d have to deal with a killer headache by the time lunch rolled around. Despite the sun having risen less than an hour ago, the air in the halls was already suffocating, heated up by the last dregs of summer.

The reception was manned by a student help, her painted lips pulling into a smile when he stepped through the open door.

“Hi,” she greeted him, putting down her stapler. “How can I help you?”

Mark hiked his backpack higher up his shoulder. “Uh, I have an appointment with Principal Qian? I’m new at this school, so I was asked to come in.”

“Sure!” The girl’s ponytail swung back and forth as she walked around the desk to lead him to the door at the opposite end of the room. “I’m Mina, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Lee, Mark Lee.”

Mark took a respectful step back as Mina knocked, popping her head into the room to report Mark’s arrival. She was back in a second, waving him forward.

Mark inhaled deeply before he entered the principal’s office. It turned out to have been a good idea when the air got knocked out of his lungs by the intense scent of vanilla-scented candles, the leaf of a potted plant nearly knocking him in the face on his way in.

“Mark.” Principal Qian rose from behind his deck, proffering his hand. Despite the parted hair and tweed ensemble he was donning, his grip was strong when Mark shook his hand. “Please, take a seat.”

Mark did as he was told, letting his backpack drop next to his chair.

Principal Qian smiled at him. “So, Mark, I already had the chance to speak to your brother on the phone, but it’s great to meet you in person. Hell High is a small school, so I try to make an effort to know each of my students at least by face.”

Mark nodded. He tried hard not to get distracted by the folder sitting in the middle of Principal Qian’s desk. Even upside down, Mark could see that his name had been scribbled onto the tag at the side. He let none of the discomfort he felt show on his face as he forced himself to meet Principal Qian’s eyes. He knew his records had been sealed when he had turned eighteen, but still. There were newspaper articles online and on the off chance that Principal Qian had gotten curious enough to google Taeyong’s name, he likely would have found out about Mark, too.

Mark shook himself out his thoughts when he noticed that Principal Qian was still talking to him. “Huh, sorry, what?”

Principal Qian’s smile was forgiving as he repeated himself, “I asked whether we should get to it, then?”

Ignoring the pounding of his heart, Mark nodded and Principal Qian opened his folder. He watched as Principal Qian pushed his glasses up his nose and scanned the first page of Mark’s folder with interest.

“Your grades are in the upper percentile as far as I can see, that’s very good. Of course, there is room for improvement in the Literature department, but that’s not the end of the world. If you truly find yourself struggling, I’m sure Mr Nakamoto will be more than willing to find a tutor for you. Now, I noticed here that you obtained your year-eleven credits at the beginning of last year, but there are no further records of you attending school in the past term. Is this your second change of school this year? Is there another school we have to contact to get the rest of your files?”

Mark put on his best sheepish smile. _Stay as close to the truth as possible,_ he reminded himself. “No, there are no, uhm, other files. I spent the past year in…Canada, visiting some relatives. I visited an alternative school there. Unfortunately none of the credits I did there are transferable.”

“Oh, that’s a pity.” Principal Qian frowned. “Maybe, if you give me the number of the school, I can give them a call and try to figure something out on your behalf?”

Mark gritted his teeth to keep the smile on his face, his heart beating painfully in his chest. He was about to put on his most convincing “don’t worry about me” face when they were interrupted by a knock on the door, three rasps before a boy with disconcertingly perfect features popped his head into the room.

“Hey, Mr Qian! You wanted to see me?”

“Ah, Jaemin, perfect! Come on in and meet our new arrival!”

The boy stepped into the room and Mark suppressed a derisive snort. With his boat shoes, hiked-up pants and sweater vest, Jaemin looked precisely like the kind of rich Manhattan kid that Mark and his friends would have relieved of his lunch money had Jaemin ever gotten himself lost in the wrong part of town.

“Mark, this is Jaemin Jung. He’s a senior like you and the president of our student council. I asked him to come in earlier today, so he could show you around a bit.”

“Hi there!” Jaemin thrust his hand into Mark’s face, revealing a set of blinding white teeth.  

After a moment of hesitation, Mark shook his hand before pushing it back into the pocket of his jacket “’sup.”

“Wonderful.” Principal Qian closed Mark’s folder. “Class starts soon, so I’ll let you two be on your way. Mark, you can pick up a copy of your class schedule from the secretary if you didn’t print it out yourself.”

Mark bowed his head as he picked up his backpack from the floor. “Thank you, Sir.”

He took a deep breath once he had left the office. Jaemin took the liberty of picking up Mark’s documents for him, Mina waving after them on their way out.

A shudder seemed to go through Jaemin’s body once they had left the administrative office, his shoulders relaxing from their perpetually drawn up state and his voice lowering an entire octave as he looked at Mark’s schedule in his hands. “All right, let’s see.”

Mark quirked up an eyebrow at the sudden change.

Jaemin noticed, tilting his head to the side. “What?”

Mark shook his head. “Nothing.”

Jaemin’s smile was sharp as he averted his eyes back to Mark’s schedule and maybe, Mark thought, maybe Jaemin would have been of the kind who would’ve pulled a switchblade on them if Mark and Yukhei had tried to mug him. The thought made Mark smile. It also made him miss his friends and so he pulled out his phone from his back pocket, sending a quick text to Renjun.

Jaemin was patient enough to wait until he had finished his text before he waved Mark’s schedule in his face. “We don’t have that many classes together except for Biology and English, but you’ve got Math first thing today. That’s in the Science building where I’ve got Chem, so I can definitely drop you off at your classroom.”

“Uh, thanks.”

Mark tried to come up with a way to inform Jaemin that they didn’t have to go through the motions of the whole tour guide schtick, but Jaemin was already walking again, leading Mark down a flight of stairs that brought them back to ground level. They had just made it onto the quad when Jaemin came to an abrupt halt, his eyebrows raising almost comically. “Wait, did you really choose _Knitting_ as your extracurricular activity?”

“I find it calming.” Mark didn’t mention that Taeyong had explicitly forbidden him from signing up for any sports during which he could potentially get himself or others hurt. Which were, unfortunately, all of the sports Hell High offered. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why, you got a problem with that?”

“Oh, not at all!” Jaemin’s thousand mega-watt smile returned. “As president of the student council I’m supportive of all the clubs! I guess I just wouldn’t have pegged you as the type.”

Mark felt his brows furrow. Jaemin was a few centimetres taller than him, but that only gave Mark an excuse to jut out his chin. “And what type would that be?”

The concern in Jaemin’s eyes was entirely too earnest for Mark’s liking. “Really, you don’t know what image you give off with your outfit?”

Mark looked down at himself, finding nothing that might cause offense. He was wearing simple black jeans (no rips as per Taeyong’s instruction) and a stainless white shirt under his old leather jacket. Even his trainers were a respectable level of unscuffed. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“You look very rugged.” Mark raised an eyebrow at that, but Jaemin didn’t seem to be perturbed. Instead, he took the time to look Mark over once again. “ _Ruggedly_ handsome, really. You look like you’re from a movie!”

“A movie?”

Jaemin nodded, whispering, “A gangster movie.”

Mark did his best not to snort. He snatched his schedule out of Jaemin’s hands. “Well, careful then or I might rob you with my knitting needles.”

Jaemin’s answering smile was as blinding as ever. “Cool!”

Mark did his best not to roll his eyes when Jaemin all but skipped next to him as they continued their way to the Science building. He was glad to have an excuse to leave the other boy behind when they passed by Jaemin's class room first.

It wasn’t that Mark disliked Jaemin per se, it was just that the other boy was so very _zealous,_ eager to fill every bout of silence with words. By the time they entered the Chemistry hallway, Mark felt like he had heard Jaemin’s entire curriculum vitae, about the clubs Jaemin was a part of, the subjects he liked and his best friends, the names of which Mark forgot the moment they had left Jaemin’s mouth.

Mark had spent too much of his life cooped up with boys his age who had been unable to shut the fuck up already and so he savoured the quiet, longed for the last minutes of peace he had before he had to push himself through a full day of high school.

“Do not hesitate to text me!” Jaemin called after him once they parted ways.

Mark waved his phone at him – now containing Jaemin’s number – before he rounded the corner to get to the second floor.

There were a good thirty minutes left until class, the hallway blissfully empty. Mark perched himself on the window sill opposite of the class room door and fumbled his earphones out of his pocket. Leaning his head against the window, he let his eyes to flutter shut. To the first, soothing tunes of his favourite Gaho song, Mark allowed his mind to sink.

*

In his dream, the forest ground was damp against his back, against his face when he let his head loll to the side. Haechan was curled up next to him on the forest floor, his head bedded on his hands as he slept peacefully. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek.

“There’s a smudge of dirt on your cheek.”

Haechan blinked his eyes open at that, the clarity in them telling Mark that the other boy hadn’t been sleeping at all, but had been waiting for him. Haechan lifted a hand to his own face and Mark watched as he dragged his fingers over the plump flesh of his cheek, fingertips smudging the streak of dirt without removing any of it. Mark’s attention was caught by the elastic bands that were wrapped around Haechan’s fingers, matching the neon fabric of his sweatshirt. Peculiar, Mark thought, like the rest of him.

“No, you didn’t get it.” Mark’s own voice came out raspier than he had thought. “Here, let me.”

He lifted his hand slowly, gave Haechan the chance to back away from him, but Haechan leaned into his touch, a smile curling on his lips when Mark rubbed his thumb over his cheek. His skin was warm. Mark felt himself smile. Once Mark had wiped his cheek clean for him, Haechan rolled onto his back, covering his face with his hands.

“Dream, have you ever seen a solar eclipse?”

Mark was taken off-guard by the question. “Uhm, once in middle school, maybe? None that I could remember, why?”

Haechan’s smile was bright and Mark wanted to bask in it. “Because there is one right now. Can’t you see?”

Mark saw the phenomenon mirrored in Haechan’s pupils before he looked up at the sky. The sun was in the process of being obscured, a dark sphere pushing itself in front of the sun to darken the world.

“Wow.” He wanted to stand up to get closer, as nonsensical as that was.

He couldn’t reach the sun, not even in his dreams.

When he looked back at Haechan, the other boy was already looking at him. Mark found himself caught in Haechan’s gaze, breathless as he felt fingers reaching out for his own, grazing his palm before they entangled with his fingers. Haechan’s hands were cold.

“Thank you.”

Mark cocked his head to the side. “For what?”

The smile that bloomed on Haechan’s face wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the shadow cast over them, cast over the world. He opened his mouth, in his eyes the eclipse—

*

Mark jerked awake when his leg slid off the window sill, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground. He managed to catch himself, grabbing onto the edge off the sill and pressing himself back against the window. It took him several deep breaths and a bit of disoriented blinking before he remembered where he was. _School,_ he remembered. _You’re a student again._

A short glance around told him that the hallway had filled with other students while he had been dozing, small groups of them lingering in front of the classroom door. Mark pretended not to notice the curious glances sent his way. Instead, he busied himself with his phone. Renjun hadn’t answered him yet, so he texted Yukhei, receiving a couch potato selfie and several single-word messages that contained different variations of the word _“fighting!!”_ in return. Mark smiled, willing the bitter longing in his chest to subside.

He pocketed his phone when the teacher showed up, a stocky woman in her mid-fifties, and let them into the classroom. He went for her desk first, asking her to sign the class list he had been given. She did so with an unimpressed expression on her face and Mark was thankful that she didn’t force him to introduce himself to the class.

“Book’s in the cabinet in the back,” she informed him before turning towards the blackboard.

Mark made sure to keep his head down as he made his way past the tables of the other students. He let his backpack drop onto the empty table the teacher had pointed out to him before he made his way over to the cabinet. The wood was old, the handle covered in a suspiciously sticky substance that made Mark pry the door open by digging his nails into the slit, but eventually he managed.

He could feel eyes on him still when he returned to his desk, book in hand, but he paid them no mind. He knew that his novelty would wear off eventually. More importantly, the other students weren’t staring at him because they were looking for a fight. _Most of them_ , Mark corrected himself when he noticed the boy sitting at the front of the class who had turned in his seat to stare at him, his expression shadowed by the glasses he was wearing.

Mark met his eyes for only a moment, let them linger on the logo of the varsity jacket he was wearing before he sat down in his seat. He had no interest in getting into it with a jock who had a whole team of friends to retaliate if Mark hurt him. So Mark kept his eyes glued to his book, trying to decipher the equations in front of him. Taeyong would expect him to maintain the GPA he had had before, so focussing on his studies was the best course of action for now.

Keeping his head down, he made it through his morning classes without any other hiccups. Despite the curious glances sent his way every which way he went, none of the other students dared to approach him. Mark was thankful for that. He exhaled once the bell rang for lunch.

He gave the cafeteria a wide berth, opting for one of the picknick tables out on the quad instead. It was sunny outside so the wood of the benches was warm. A smile spread over Mark’s face as he pulled his lunch out of his backpack. He couldn’t quite help the eyeroll when he spotted the abundance of green inside the Tupperware container, but he still felt giddy, his stomach rumbling as he picked up one of the lettuce wraps Taeyong had made him. His brother’s obsession with forcing vegetables into him aside, Taeyong’s food was unparalleled.

He had popped his earphones back in while leaving class so he didn’t notice the figure hovering at the other side of the table until their shadow fell over his food. Frowning, he dropped his food back into its box, pulling one of his earphones out as he raised his gaze.

“Yes?”

It took him only a second to recognise the boy from his Math class, the obnoxious neon green detailing of his varsity jacket making him easily recognisable. Mark supposed that the student athlete get-up was still nicer to look at than the Jaemin-type boat shoes and cashmere sweaters the rest of the student body seemed to be into.

The boy pushed up his glasses and Mark didn’t miss the way the fabric of his jacket stretched over his biceps with the motion. Slowly, Mark pulled his other earphone out and placed them on the table along with his phone. The boy shifted from one foot to the other and Mark felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. He was ready to get up and throw the first punch—by the way the girls at the table next over were watching them, it was clear that whatever Mark was going to do to this random boy was bound to leave an impression—when the other’s stony expression melted.

His eyes scrunched up as he smiled and then Mark was met with a proffered hand instead of a fist. “Hi, I’m Jeno.”

Mark blinked, trying to process how the boy in front of him had turned from stony to _cute_ within the blink of an eye smile.

“Mark,” he said belatedly, finding himself even more dazed when Jeno _giggled_ in response.

“I know. Jaemin told me. I’m here to have lunch with you so you’re not on your own.”

 “Uh…” Mark didn’t get much further in his answer because then Jeno was flopping himself down on the bench opposite of Mark, unzipping his backpack to produce a paper bag labelled ‘lunch for champions’ and two bottles of blue Gatorade.

After a moment, Mark let himself fall back into his seat. A part of him wanted to tell Jeno that Mark was fine on his own and that there was no need for the other boy to feel any sense of obligation towards him, but now that Jeno was smiling he reminded Mark of a puppy, which reminded him of Yukhei and Mark missed him. He missed his friends. There had been reasons why Taeyong had moved them across the country away from everyone they’d ever known, but Mark couldn’t suppress the longing in his chest.

Jeno was not his friend, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have him around for a bit. Surely, Taeyong would be over the moon if Mark told him that he had eaten lunch with someone. 

He smiled when Jeno pushed one of the Gatorade bottles in his direction. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Jeno’s eyes grew wide when Mark reopened his lunch bag. “Are those _ssambap?_ ”

Mark nodded and, after a moment of contemplation, picked up one of the neat little lettuce wraps to offer to the other boy. Jeno beamed, picking up the wrap before tipping his head back to fit it into his mouth. Mark focussed on taking a bite out of his own while Jeno chewed, noises of appraisal escaping his mouth past the rice.

“Wow,” he said once he’d swallowed, “did you make these?”

Mark shook his head.

“They’re so good.” Jeno sighed as he pulled a sandwich out of his own lunch bag. “We tried to make _ssambap_ at our last ASA meeting but every wrap I made disintegrated before I could put it anywhere near my mouth.”

Mark grinned at that. “It happens. I tried to fry an egg once and ever since then I’ve been banned from the kitchen.”

Jeno winced as he took a bite from his sandwich. “That bad?”

“Did you know that you have to put oil in the pan before you crack the egg?”

Jeno stared at him in open-mouthed horror for a good few seconds before he resumed chewing. “You didn’t burn your house down, did you?”

Mark shook his head. It had been a close call, but Taeyong had come home in time to wrestle him away from the stove and throw the pan in the sink. “Only ruined the pan.”

Jeno chuckled. “I wish I could say I’m any better, but I’m really not. Usually, I get Jaemin to cook for me. He’s really good at it.”

Mark hummed.  “Are you two good friends?”

Jeno grinned as he lifted his left arm, pushing down the sleeve of his jacket to reveal two strings of thread wrapped around his wrist. Friendship bracelets, Mark realised when he saw Jeno push the beads strung onto the upper, neon yellow thread around so Mark could read the letters embossed on the small silver pearls. They spelled out Jaemin and Jeno’s names, a heart-shaped bead connecting the two. “Jaemin’s one of my best.”

Mark nodded. He couldn’t decipher the letters of the other friendship bracelet, strung onto a matching neon orange thread, so he turned his attention back to his lunch.

“Do you have any afternoon classes?” Jeno asked after they had finished off the last of their food.

Mark took a sip from his Gatorade as he squinted, trying to remember the schedule that had steadily wandered to the bottom of his backpack during the day. “History, I think. A double lesson.”

Much to Mark’s surprise, Jeno let out a delighted noise. “I’ve got swim practice until four, but afterwards I’m meeting up with my friends. We’re gonna shoot some hoops, if you want to join?”

Mark blinked. He had originally planned on taking the bus home to get started on the moving boxes in the living room, but something about the hopeful shine in Jeno’s eyes made it hard to say no to him.

“I’d have to ask my brother,” Mark licked his lips, tasting sugar from the Gatorade, “but I’m sure he won’t be mad if I explain it to him.”

Jeno beamed at him, his eyes scrunching up as he pulled himself to his feet. “Sounds great! Just come to the entrance of the gym after class. We’ll wait for you.”

It was a simple sentence, spoken without much thought behind it and still it made Mark’s breath catch in his throat. _We’ll wait for you._ Mark wanted to ask him, wanted to ask why Jeno seemed to be so bent on getting to know him, but then he supposed that that was just the kind of person Jeno was. Jeno and Jaemin both were.

“I’ll be there.”

Jeno’s smile broadened into a grin before he picked up his gym bag, shoving his trash into the side compartment before he left.

The yard was slowly but steadily emptying with the start of afternoon classes approaching, but Mark took his time finishing up his drink. He spun his phone on his palm as he contemplated. Eventually, he decided to bite the bullet and unlocked his phone, dialling the first contact on his list. It rung for nearly two minutes before Taeyong picked up.

“Hello?” His brother sounded breathless.

“Is now a bad time?”

“No, I just had to pull over. I’m on my way to work. Is everything all right? Are you all right?”

Mark huffed out a laugh. “Relax, Yong! I’m not in trouble. The opposite, actually. I got invited to play basketball after school. Is it okay if I go?”

Mark frowned when there was silence on the other line. “Yong?”

“Who invited you out?”

Mark exhaled through his nose. “Just these two boys I met. One of them showed me around school and the other is in my class. They’re nice.”

More silence.

Mark sighed. “They’re good kids, Yong. One of them is literally the president of the student council. No trouble to be found there.”

A deep sigh from the other end of the line and Mark smiled because he knew he had won.

“Fine, but I want you to be home before sundown. You’ve got your buspass, yeah?”

Mark patted the front pocket of his backpack. “I got it. Thanks, Yong, I love you.”

“I love you, too. Oh, and Mark?”

“Mhm?”

“I’m really happy that you’re making friends, but if they do turn out to be trouble after all, don’t let yourself be influenced, okay?”

Mark knew what Taeyong was referring too and he wanted to laugh because his brother had it all wrong. It hadn’t been Mark’s old friends who had been a bad influence. It had been Mark that had lead them into that alley. Yukhei and Renjun had only followed him because they hadn’t wanted him to go alone. Because they loved Taeyong nearly as much as Mark did.

“Of course. I promised you, didn’t I?”

“You did.” A small inhale. “Don’t forget to come home.”

Mark shook his head even though Taeyong couldn’t see. “Never.”

“I’ll see you tonight, then. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Mark stared at his phone screen long after Taeyong had hung up, pressing his thumb down on the contact picture Taeyong had set for himself. It was a photo from the surprise party Taeyong had organised for Mark’s sixteenth birthday party, at the underground hip hop club Mark and his friends used to sneak into. They were standing side by side, their arms around each other. Mark was looking into the camera, still starstruck from his surprise while Taeyong had waited until the shutter went off to plant a kiss on his cheek, never one to miss an opportunity to embarrass Mark in public with his overly affectionate nature.

Mark swallowed the lump that threatened to form in his throat and locked his phone. He missed the days when Taeyong had been carefree, intent on showing Mark all the joy the world had to offer instead of hiding them both away. It was a painful thought and the pain made anger flare up in is stomach, but Mark had learned ways to quell it. He imagined rain, rain hitting the grimy concrete of a Manhattan back alley, soaking his clothes as he waited to trade a dream for a dream.

Even sitting in the sun, Mark could feel the cold of rain against his skin, could hear Yukhei’s laughter behind him, could taste iron on his tongue. He got up slowly from his table, keeping his eyes on the ground as he shouldered his backpack to head to class. For all that trade had cost him, he didn’t regret it. But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t still paying for what he had done. Dreams were expensive, and the destruction of one had cost him dearly.

*

Jeno and Jaemin were waiting for him in front of the school’s gym as promised, their heads stuck together as they seemed to be discussing something. Mark slowed his step when he saw the frown marring Jeno’s face. Jeno was speaking rapidly, waving the phone in his hand—Jaemin’s, Mark recognised the silver smartphone—before he handed it back to Jaemin, who shook his head rapidly as he pocketed it. Jaemin’s brow was furrowed just as deeply as Jeno’s, his lips pressed into a tight line of annoyance.

It was strange to see Jaemin being anything other than his usual cheerful self, but a part of Mark was thankful for this glimpse at Jaemin’s unprettier emotions. It was comforting, to know that Jaemin was just as capable of being annoyed as anyone else.

Jeno looked like he had more to say, but he stopped himself when he saw Mark approach, his frown melting into a crinkle-eyed smile. Jaemin was quick to mirror his expression when he noticed Mark and Mark didn’t hesitate to shake both of their hands in greeting.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Jaemin beamed as he threw an arm around Mark’s shoulder.

Mark willed himself to let it rest there. He smiled, the expression coming easier to him when he noticed that Jaemin had traded his chinos and sweater vest for sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. It was much easier to take him seriously if he wasn’t dressed like such a nerd. Jeno was in baskbetball shorts already and what Mark guessed to be his team jersey, his hair wet from the shower he seemed to have taken after practice.

Mark turned towards the gym entrance. “Will they even let us in after school hours?”

“Oh, Jeno’s got a key.” Jaemin waved away his concerns with his free hand, his other arm staying firmly wrapped around Mark’s shoulder as they followed Jeno into the building. The smell of sweaty socks and rubber was heavy in the air, but Mark breathed past it. “All the school athletes get one so they can use the gym whenever they want.”

Mark thought about how the teachers at his old high school had locked the classrooms between each lesson so none of the students could deface any of the school property. “That’s very…trusting.”

“Oh, trust is one of the key elements of Hell High’s school philosophy!” Jaemin nearly bounced on his feet with excitement. “It says it right in the first paragraph of our—”

“Jaemin,” Jeno interrupted him gently, pushing open a door that lead them into a stairwell.

Jaemin turned red, clearing his throat. “Right, anyways. The basketball court is on the roof, just wait, you’ll love it!”

Mark did indeed love it as they left the staircase, passed through another metal door and emerged on the roof of the building. The court was full-size, welded wire mesh fence surrouning the edges of the roof and Mark felt the heat of the concrete even through the soles of his shoes. The sun was still high in the sky, causing Mark to squint as he looked up at the hoops on either end of the court. The metal of their meshes gleamed in the sun.

He discarded his backpack next to Jaemin’s, grinning when Jeno unzipped his gym bag to produce a basketball from its depths. He passed it over to Mark, who dug his fingers into the familiar texture before he let the ball bounce against the ground. Mark felt a spark of excitement as he dribbled the ball for a few metres. He had nearly made it to the middle of the court before Jaemin snatched it from his hands.

The bold move made Mark laugh. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Jung!”

Jaemin grinned, zipping off to the other end of the court to shoot the ball through the hoop. Jeno’s smile was fond as he jogged up next to Mark. “Don’t be fooled, Jaemin’s great at basketball. He could easily be on the school team, but he’s too busy with leading the student council, ASA and GSA to play.”

Mark felt his eyebrows rise on their own accord. “This place has a GSA?”

“We do.” Mark felt himself smile at the way Jeno’s chest puffed up with pride. “I mean, both clubs have to share a room because they would only give Jaemin one room to use when he petitioned the school board, but that’s okay because most of the members of the ASA are in the GSA and vice versa, anyways. Minorities sticking together, and all that.”

“Sounds cool.”

“Oh, you’re welcome to join!” Mark found it amusing how some of Jaemin’s zeal seemed to have rubbed off on Jeno. “The Asian Student Alliance meets up every Wednesday at four in the afternoon. The entrance fee is a snack of your choice for everyone to share.”

Mark nodded, mentally noting down the date and time. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind. I was told being a member of the Knitting Club is not the best for my image.”  

Jeno laughed at that.

“Hey!” Jaemin’s voice reached them, just as Mark noticed the orange blob flying towards his face. “It’s no fun if you’re not even trying to stop me! Get going, losers!”

Jeno caught the ball before it could hit Mark in the face, dribbling it against the ground before passing it over to Mark. “You’re on, Nana!”

They played for hours and by the end of it, Mark was dripping sweat, his jeans and t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin. Nonetheless he felt light, lighter than he had in a long time when he let himself flop to the ground with a satisfied groan. He thanked Jeno for the blue Gatorade the other boy handed him. It seemed that, next to full-size basketballs, Jeno was also hiding a seemingly endless supply of the blue sports drink in his gym bag.

“You’re the best,” Jaemin told Jeno as he unscrewed the cap of the bottle Jeno had handed him, taking a big gulp before he rolled onto his side. “Oh, pretty.”

Mark followed his line of sight and smiled. There were no skyscrapers around and so there was also nothing obscuring the view upward. The sky had turned pink while they had played, dusk breaking on the horizon. Mark basked in the beautiful sight before he jolted.

“Oh, shit!” He struggled to his feet. “I have to get going! I promised my brother I’d be home until sundown. Shit, where’s my bus pass?”

He was too busy rummaging through the front pocket of his backpack to notice the glance Jaemin and Jeno exchanged.

“Uh, Mark?”

Mark didn’t look up from where he was squinting at the inside of his bag. “Yeah?”

“The last bus went like an hour ago.”

He looked up. “Wait, what?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jeno rubbed the back of his head. “You didn’t know that? Public transport doesn’t run past eight p.m. here.”

_“What?”_

“Welcome to small town Oregon?” Jaemin tried.

Mark groaned. Taeyong would kill him. Their house was relatively far out and there was little chance Mark would be home before midnight if he had to walk all the way across town, as small as Hell was.

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” Mark flinched when Jaemin patted his leg. “Jeno and I have bikes. You can ride on the back of mine and we can take you to the town centre. My older brother works there, he’ll give you a ride home.”

Mark mulled it over for a second. Normally, he would have been reluctant to go along with any kind of plan that demanded of him to trust someone he didn’t even know to help him, but desperate times called for desperate measures and Mark rather liked his head attached to the rest of his body. A given that was likely to change if he made Taeyong worry about him for _four_ hours.

“Okay,” he said and found it in him to reciprocate the smile Jaemin shot him. “Let’s do it.”

What Jaemin had forgotten to mention when he had laid his plan out to Mark, Mark realised as he looked up at the red-brick building that they arrived at half an hour later (Mark on shaky knees from standing on the pegs of Jaemin’s BMX bike for so long and Jaemin considerably more out of breath than Jeno was), was that Jaemin’s brother was a cop.

 _Hell County Police_ the big, iron letters fastened above the entrance of the building spelled out. Mark’s stomach churned.

Every single cell in his body bristled at the thought of setting foot into this building, but Jeno was holding the door open for him, blinking his button eyes in oblivious, well-mannered expectancy and Mark had no choice but to force a smile onto his face as he followed Jaemin into the station.

Mark focussed on the heavy smell of coffee and printer toner that hung in the air, the sound of the fan standing in the corner of the open bureau they had stepped into. If he focussed enough, he could pretend not to see the cell doors lining the wall to the left. He nearly bumped into Jaemin’s back when the other boy stopped short in front of him.

Mark needed a moment to realise why. Much unlike Jaemin had reassured him, the station wasn’t as “totally empty” as promised.

There was a man standing at the reception, arguing with the two police officers on the other side of the counter. He was tall, taller than both of the policemen, the thick soles of his construction boots adding another couple of centimetres to his height.

“No, listen—you’re not listening to me, Doyoung!”

The police officer he had addressed, a slender man with an impressively unimpressed expression on his face, pursed his lips. “It’s Sheriff Kim in here.”

The tall man merely huffed. “Fine, _Sheriff,_ you’re not listening to me! Hyuck always sends me a text that he’s safe wherever he is, even when he’s mad. But he’s been gone since last night and it’s been radio silence since then. When I call him, it tells me his phone is shut off. He never shuts his phone off! He’s a teenager, for God’s sake!”

Sheriff Kim raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I understand that, Johnny, but we both know his isn’t the first time Donghyuck has ran away. At this point, I fear it’s just how he works through things. Just go home and wait for him to come back. You know he always pops back up once he’s ready.”

The sheriff’s eyes widened when he spotted Mark, Jeno and Jaemin at the door. Mark’s first instinct was to turn the other way when the sheriff lifted one hand to wave them forward, but he had no choice but to follow when Jeno and Jaemin immediately made a beeline for the counter.

“Jeno, Jaemin!” The sheriff levelled them with a strict gaze. Mark was glad to find himself ignored for the moment. “You don’t happen to have heard from Donghyuck today, have you?”

Jeno and Jaemin shook their heads in perfect synchronicity.

“He didn’t text you or anything?” the other police officer spoke up. His voice was deeper than that of the sheriff, gravelly in a way that made feel Mark oddly calm. Mark didn’t have to take a look at the name tag pinned to his uniform to know that this was Jaemin’s older brother. They shared the same, disconcertingly perfect features. “No twelve-minute rants about the latest remake of Spring Awakening in the group chat?”

Jeno shook his head, his shoulders dropping. “No, he didn’t text either of us back when we asked him where he was this morning.”  

Jaemin was staring at the ground, his brows knitted together before he looked up. “He wasn’t in class, but that’s not unusual.” His eyes widened when he looked at Johnny. “I mean, uhm, not that he’s truant or anything, he just—”

Johnny waved him off, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “I know Hyuck skips class. Don’t worry about it, Jaemin, you didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.”

The smile that accompanied Jaemin’s nod was tight.

Johnny turned away to look back at the policemen in front of him. Because he was standing behind him, Mark could see the way his hands balled into fists.

“Something is wrong, Doyoung, I can feel it in my gut. He’s my son, you know I can’t—if anything happened to him, I won’t—” he broke off, choking up.

Mark felt his heart seize. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jaemin take Jeno’s hand.

The sheriff seemed to feel it too. Something softened in his eyes. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours, Johnny, and Donghyuck’s not a little kid anymore so I couldn’t do anything even if I wanted to, but—”

The tall man took a shuddering breath.

“—if he’s not back by tomorrow, come back in and I’ll post an AMBER alert, okay? Even if I doubt he’s not currently hiding out in Jaehyun and Jaemin’s basement, seeing his own face plastered over the news should definitely scare him enough to come back home.”

For a moment, it looked like Johnny wanted to continue to argue, but then his shoulders slumped and he nodded. “Thank you, Doyoung.”

“It’s Sheriff Kim.” This time, the exasperation in the sheriff’s voice was laced with fondness. “He’ll come back home, okay? He always has and he always will. You know he loves you so much.”

Johnny nodded. The only sound coming from him was the jingling of his keys as he turned to leave.

“Wait! Don’t forget these!” Jaehyun called after him, picking up a thick stack of papers from the counter in front of him.

Mark caught the flash of guilt on Johnny’s face before the man turned back around, though Mark was a bit distracted by the way the sheriff reached over the counter and pinched Jeno’s cheek.

Johnny took the papers from the officer’s hands. As he did so, one of the flyers slipped from the stack, floating to the ground before either man could catch it. Instinctively, Mark crouched down to gather up the paper that had fallen at his feet. He was about to hand it over when his heart stopped. The edges of the paper crinkled as he gripped it tighter, staring at the image in the centre of the flyer.

He was younger in the photo, his cheeks chubbier and his hair darker than in Mark's dreams, but still Mark recognised him. He would have recognised Haechan everywhere, the boy from his dreams that was now plastered onto the front of a missing person's poster. At the top, below the emboldened headline was his name: Donghyuck Seo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems that not everything in Hell is as idyllic as it seems. We'll see, we'll see. 
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/taeyongseo)  
> [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/taeyongseo)  
> [the official tdc playlist](http://open.spotify.com/playlist/3YEKeV2un8uCm32Zu3jSDS?si=Mwks7_9_RMCAGrRcuQRn_g) (the cover of this playlist is taeyong's contact photo that is described in this chapter)


	3. The Disappearance of Donghyuck Seo

In his dream, Mark woke up on his front, the taste of earth heavy on his tongue as he lifted his face from the ground. Unlike before, it was night time in his dream, the sky pitch black and starless. A low humming sound alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t alone.

Craning his neck, he saw that Haechan was sitting by his feet, humming the tune of a song Mark couldn’t name as he tied the laces of Mark’s shoes together. Mark watched him until Haechan had tied all four ends of the laces into a bow before he rolled onto his back.

With the motion came memory and Mark sat up with a jolt. “Fuck, you’re real!”

Haechan’s eyebrows lifted in shock, but the expression in his eyes was too bright for his surprise to be sincere. This wasn’t news to him, Mark realised.

“Haechan,” his heart began to pound in his chest, “you’re _real.”_

Haechan’s expression softened as he leaned forward and Mark felt the skin of his leg tingle where Haechan placed a hand on his shin. Cold burn. “Of course I’m real, Dream.”  

“No, you’re—you ran away! I met your dad at the police station, he’s looking for you! You’re not a figment of my imagination. You exist in the real world, and you’re missing!”

Haechan’s expression didn’t change at all. There was no sorrow in his eyes. The closest thing Mark could read in his eyes was pity, as if Mark was being stupid. As if Mark was the one missing. He felt himself grow frustrated.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were missing?” His heart threatened to beat out of his chest. “You lied to me.”

The other boy tilted his head to the side. “Omitting the truth is not lying.”

“So it is true.” Mark felt his insides twist. “You are missing.”

Haechan looked up at the night sky, in his eyes the eclipse. “If I was missing, would you come and find me?”

The feeling began at the back of his neck, spread from his chest into his limbs to seep into every of his bones. It was different from anger. It pulled him forward, not into pieces. Mark found himself nodding even before he could respond. “Yes.”

His answer caused Haechan to smile. The other boy reached out, shaking the pastel-streaked strands of his fringe out of his eyes and Mark thought that he looked ethereal, even if there was still dirt on his cheek, even if the neon colour of his sweatshirt was still abysmally gaudy. Mark felt himself calm. Haechan was here, in front of him. In his dream, they were together. Here, in his dream, nothing could touch Haechan except for Mark.

Haechan’s hand was cold when Mark took it. The other boy linked their pinkies, his gaze turning expectant and Mark didn’t have to ask what he was waiting for. He already knew.

“I’ll do it,” he promised. “I will find you.”

*

Mark yawned as he stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, attracted by the smell of blueberry pancakes and Taeyong singing along to the radio. Pastel colours streaked his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes and so Mark blinked rapidly, desperate to clear his head.

Taeyong fell silent when he noticed him, giving Mark a short, perfunctory  “no injuries detected on the child” once-over before he turned back to the stove. Mark slunk past the coffee machine before he sat down at the kitchen table. He waited until Taeyong had turned down the radio and placed a steaming plate full of perfectly browned pancakes in front of him before he spoke up.

“I’m sorry.”

Taeyong only shrugged as he dug into his own food and Mark knew Taeyong wasn’t meeting his eyes so Mark couldn’t see the anger in them, the disappointment. The dark circles beneath his brother’s eyes told Mark that Taeyong hadn’t slept well, maybe at all. Haunted.

“Taeyong.” He received a flicker of a glance in return, but Mark took it. “You have to see that nothing happened, yeah? I know I was late, but the cop, that was Jaemin’s brother. He just drove me home. Everything’s fine. We’re fine.”

Taeyong chewed, took a sip of his coffee, swallowed. “No, Mark. _You_ might be fine. Meanwhile, I spent my evening yesterday coming home after a ten-hour shift at the diner, expecting you to be there, but you weren’t. And then when I try to call you, it tells me your phone is shut off—”

“It died on the way to the police station.”

Taeyong ignored him, the grip on his coffee mug turning white-knuckled. “—and when you do come home, it’s in a godforsaken cop car. Excuse me if my first thought wasn’t that this town is back-end enough for the police to actually be your friend and helper.”

“I’m sorry.”  

“Never again,” Taeyong looked down at his hands, “that’s what you told me. You said—no, you _promised_ me that I’d never have to see you like that again.”

“Taeyong.” Mark withstood the urge to crush the mug in his hand. He was angry at himself, but he was also in control. “I’m really sorry.”

Taeyong shrugged, looking defeated, and Mark hated that most of all.

“I didn’t know the public transport doesn’t run any later than eight. I should have checked, I’m sorry. Jaemin didn’t tell me his brother was a cop before we were already at the station and declining their offer would have made me look weird because normal people aren’t afraid of the police. I’m sorry, I thought taking the ride was better than letting you wait for another couple of hours.”

“The next time, ask to borrow a phone and at least give me a warning call.” Taeyong’s grimace turned into a pout upon the last word and Mark exhaled with the knowledge that they would be fine. “I almost had a heart attack.”

“I know.” Mark allowed himself a chuckle. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost when you came down the porch.”

“Because I did.” They both sobered at that, but there was no anger left in Taeyong’s eyes when he reached over the table to take Mark’s hand. “You’re my little brother, Mark. My responsibility. Everything that hurts you, hurts me too.”

 _Likewise,_ Mark wanted to say, but he bit his tongue. They both knew how true that was without him having to say it. “I’m really fucking sorry, Taeyong.”

“Language.” Taeyong sighed before straightening his back, trying to look like the stern parental figure Mark deserved. “Don’t do it again. And tell that Jaemin kid to thank his brother. He brought you home, cop or not.”

Mark smiled. “Will do.”

They were interrupted by the doorbell ringing then and Taeyong was on his feet before Mark could grovel any more. He took the opportunity to dig into his pancakes, savouring the fluffy sweetness. He could hear Taeyong talk to whoever was at the door, his eyebrows rising when he heard Taeyong laugh, his voice joined by another, deeper one. Mark recognised the tall man that walked into the kitchen after Taeyong a minute later and his fork fell onto his plate, clattering.

“… and this is my brother, Mark. Mark, this is Johnny Seo. He owns the construction company in town.”

Mark could tell by the way Johnny smiled at him that he didn’t recognise Mark from the night before. Mark couldn’t really fault him for that. Johnny’s eyes had never left the photo of his son when Mark had handed him back his flyer and after that Johnny had left quickly, the flyers clutched to his chest.

“Hello, Sir,” Mark greeted dutifully.

The corners of Johnny’s eyes crinkled as he waved him off. “Oh, no need for all that. Just call me Johnny.” He turned towards Taeyong. “Apart from being the guy you hired to fix your house, I’m also your neighbour. Me and my son live just on the other side of the street, two houses down.”

Mark marvelled at his accent, thick and drawling. It hadn’t been as prominent when he had been shouting at the officers the night before, but now that he was speaking normally, it came out in its full, charming force. Mark squinted when he saw Taeyong tug on his shirt, his fingers dancing over the hem as his cheeks turned bright red. Mark suppressed the urge to throw a pancake at his face.  

“Well, I feel a lot less bad about asking you to come over so early, then.”

“Oh, it’s no bother at all. I still have to apologise for cancelling on you yesterday. Something came up.” Mark didn’t miss the way the edges of Johnny’s smile grew tight. Donghyuck, he realised. Donghyuck had come up. “Which reminds me, do you mind if I keep my phone on loud? I’m waiting for a call.”

“No problem,” Taeyong chirped and Mark shoved another piece of pancake in his mouth, lest he said something on the wrong side of polite. “It says on your website that you do whole-house renovations. My handyman skills don’t exceed wrapping duct tape around any potential leaks, so we’re in dire need of help. Can I show you around?”

Johnny nodded before he followed Taeyong out of the kitchen, the older man’s booming voice carrying through the air. “I see old Mrs Flannigan didn’t really make an effort to do any renovations herself before she sold the house. It’s going to be a piece of work, but the framework is sturdy, so it should be no problem fixing it up to meet your living standards.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Mr Seo.”

“Oh,” Johnny laughed. Mark chewed so harshly his jaw hurt, the sweetness in his mouth turning sickly, “I was serious when I said that you can call me Johnny. Mr Seo was my dad and if I’m going to be fixing up your house for you, we should be comfortable with each other. We’re going to see each other a lot, after all.”

“Right.” Taeyong giggled. “I’m Taeyong, then.”

Johnny smiled as he took Taeyong’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Taeyong.”

“Taeyong!” Mark bellowed, watching his brother flinch.

Taeyong turned to glare at him through the open kitchen door before he turned back to Johnny. “Excuse me for a moment, you can go ahead and take a look at the living room, if you’d like.”

Johnny tipped the brim of an imaginary cowboy hat before he sauntered into the other room, the heavy footfalls of his construction boots fading.

Taeyong’s smile turned into a scowl when he returned to the kitchen. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you yelling like that?”

Mark didn’t say anything as he kicked back in his chair, raising a single eyebrow.

“What?” Taeyong’s scowl deepened. “Oh my god, _what?”_

“Careful,” Mark said lowly, “or you’ll slip on the puddle of drool beneath your feet.”

Taeyong’s eyes widened almost comically at the thinly veiled accusation in Mark’s tone, but Mark didn’t miss the flash of guilt in his eyes as his brother crossed his arms in front of his chest. “It’s not how you think it is.”

“Sure. So you didn’t hire _Johnny_ because he’s hot?”

Mark could see Taeyong choke on his own spit as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Obviously not! I’ll have you know that I didn’t even know what he looked like when I made the appointment. Besides, so what if I think he’s—” Taeyong broke off in a huff, his guilt giving way to indignation. “He’s a skilled handyman, that’s what matters! His company has stellar ratings on Yelp and it says on his website that he does stucco!”

Mark snorted. “Don’t you think he’s a little old for you? He’s at least thirty and you’re twenty-four.”

“He’s thirty-three.”

Mark raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” The blush rising on Taeyong’s cheeks betrayed his words. “Don’t look at me like that! I like to make informed decisions when I hire someone and he popped up in my facebook recommended! So what if I did a little digging?”

Mark shook his head. “I can’t believe you went through all that, _we_ went through all that, and you still have the hots for older men.”

He could see the precise moment his words registered with Taeyong, could see it in the way his brother’s shoulders slouched and all the mirth faded form his eyes. And Mark wanted to reach out and catch the words before they could ever reach him, wanted to bang his head against the wall until his brain maybe regained some of its function.

“Taeyong,” he tried to backpedal, but Taeyong was already waving him off. Mark didn’t miss the wet glisten to his eyes as Taeyong backed away from him.

“Better go get ready.” His brother cleared his throat. “Your bus is going to leave soon.”

He didn’t meet Mark’s eyes as he left the kitchen, not even stopping when he banged his hip against the door handle on his way out and Mark wanted to call after him, make it right, but he knew that Taeyong wouldn’t want him to make a scene while there was a stranger in their house. Even if it was for an apology.

Mark gritted his teeth, flicking himself in the head.

“Stupid,” he mumbled to himself as he carried their dishes to the sink. “You’re so fucking stupid, Mark Lee.”

He made sure to steer clear of the living room as he got ready to leave, slipping on his shoes and slinking out of the door before he could do any more damage. The lunch Taeyong had packed for him—complete with a cheery post-it stuck to the inside of lunch box—weighed heavy in his backpack as he walked to the bus stop at the beginning of the street.

Subconsciously, Mark found himself counting the houses on the other side of the street, his eyes lingering on the modest, two-story colonial two houses down from his own. The house was indistinct in comparison to the other houses lining the street, indistinct to Mark and Taeyong’s own.

The only thing setting it apart was the car that stood in the driveway. Mark raised an eyebrow at the behemoth of a truck. It was silver, the name _Seo Construction_ painted onto both sides in terrible neon orange colour with the company’s contact information printed underneath. Mark looked back towards the house.

His eyes were drawn to the second story, to the windows facing the street and he wondered whether one of them belonged to Donghyuck’s room, whether the other boy had ever escaped through one of them and used the staunched angle of the roof to sneak out at night. Or maybe he had remained right up there, looking at the stars. This far away from the big cities, the stars were visible at night. Mark had seen them.

He didn’t linger in front of the Seos’ house. The bus was already turning the corner at the beginning of the street and so Mark jogged the last couple of metres to the sign, struggling to pull his bus pass from his bag while running.

The bus driver gave him an unimpressed look when Mark got on, shaking his head at Mark’s obvious panting before waving him through. His stop was one of the first one the route, so the bus was near-empty. Mark kept his head down as he made his way to the back, letting himself fall into an empty seat. The ride would take over half an hour, which gave Mark ample time to think about what a terrible brother he was. Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced himself to relax, allowed the low rumble of the engine to lull him in.

*

In his dream, the stars were bright in the night sky, reflecting in Haechan’s eyes as he gazed at the sky. The besotted expression on his face gave way to curiosity when he looked at Mark. Mark felt an all too familiar shiver run down his spine. He didn’t know where to store all the pent-up buzz in his body, so he clenched his hands into fists.

Haechan followed the motion with his eyes. His lips pulled into a pout. “You’re angry again.”

This time, Mark didn’t bother denying it. “I did something bad. I hurt my brother.”

Haechan hummed, his fingers cool against the hot blood coursing through Mark’s body. Mark exhaled shakily as Haechan uncurled his hands for him. He brushed his thumb over Mark’s palm before flipping his hands to inspect his knuckles and Mark felt himself shiver for a different reason. “Like the other one? You hurt him like you hurt the other one?”

Mark felt his breath fall short at the idea. “No!” He pulled his hands out of Haechan’s grip, but the other boy grabbed them back and Mark couldn’t back away. Not from Haechan. “I’d never lay a hand on Taeyong.”

Haechan nodded. “But you hurt him.”

Mark deflated. “I fucked up. I was careless with my words and Yong got hurt because I couldn’t keep my fucking mouth shut.”

“He will forgive you.”

Mark shook his head. “I put him through so much shit, at this point I honestly don’t deserve it.”

“But he will still forgive you.”

Mark exhaled when Haechan squeezed his hand. It gave him comfort. Haechan gave him comfort. He never wanted to let go. “How do you know that?”

“Because that’s what family does. You forgive each other.” His gaze turned far away. His grip on Mark’s hands loosened. “That’s what my dad says. I’m sure your brother will be no different. He must love you very much.”

“He does.”

The smile on Haechan’s face was breath-taking, blinding before he took a step away from Mark. Then another one. Mark felt his gut seize with dread.

“Wait,” he called out, but Haechan didn’t listen. He was already running, and Mark couldn’t do anything else but chase after him. “Hey, wait for me!”

Haechan laughed and slowed down, just enough to take Mark’s hand and pull him along. “Come on, Dream. We can’t stay here.”

Mark wanted to ask why, but he never got the chance. All he could do was run, into the woods, Haechan’s fingers cool as they intertwined with his.

*

Mark was woken from where he had dozed off against the window when the bus came to an abrupt halt, throwing his body forward. The rest of the students were already on their feet, crowding into the small aisle to get to the door. Mark waited until the younger, louder kids had gotten off the bus before he followed them. If he concentrated enough, he could recall the scent of petrichor filling his lungs.

He found Jaemin and Jeno sitting at the same yard table that Jeno and him had had lunch at the day before. Jeno was on his phone, typing away rapidly while Jaemin was reading along over his shoulder.

“You look like shit,” Mark blurted out before he could think better of it. Brutal honesty had been common courtesy amongst him and his old friends, but Jaemin and Jeno might not take to it as kindly.

He was surprised, though, when Jeno shot him a sheepish smile before turning back to his phone. Jaemin offered him a tired wave, the circles underneath his eyes dark enough to look like bruises.  “We didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Mark hummed in sympathy. He could relate to that. Ever since he had come to Hell, his dreams had been so vivid Mark felt like he hadn’t been sleeping at all.

“We slept in Jaemin’s basement,” Jeno added, without looking up from his phone. His thumb kept dragging down the screen to refresh his notifications. “We thought Hyuck might show up there first.”

Mark felt his heart skip a beat. He cleared his throat. “Hyuck…that’s your friend, right? The one from yesterday that’s missing?” The name weighed heavy on his tongue, but he had to know. “Donghyuck Seo?”

“That’s him.”

Mark felt something in his chest settle. The night before hadn’t been a dream, unlike what had followed. He watched in fascination as both Jeno and Jaemin reached for their wrists in near perfect synchronicity. Jeno went to tug on his friendship bracelets while Jaemin covered his own with his hand, his knuckles turning white.

“Hyuck has a spare key to my house,” Jaemin said. “Usually, when he fights with his dad, he’ll wander around town for a couple of hours to cool off and then he’ll crash in my basement.”

Mark stored that information away. He remembered that Sheriff Kim had said something similar last night, that Donghyuck tended to run away mostly after he had fought with his father. He wondered what caused Johnny and him to butt heads this frequently, but that was the kind of private matter he couldn’t ask about without raising some eyebrows, so he focussed on the topic at hand.

“But he didn’t show last night?”

Jaemin shook his head before bedding it on Jeno’s shoulder. “We stayed up until four a.m. but he never came.”

“We were annoyed yesterday, but now we’re worried.” Jeno looked dejected when he looked up from his phone. “He’s never stayed away two nights in a row.”  

They all flinched when his phone pinged. Mark held his breath until he saw Jeno’s shoulders slump. “No one from the swim team knows where he is, either. Jisung says the last time he saw him was at Moon’s, but that was Saturday and we hung out with him after that on Sunday morning.”

Jaemin let out a noise that lay somewhere between a grunt and a whine. “I hate this.”

“I do, too.”  

“No, I really hate this!” Mark was surprised by the sudden anger in Jaemin’s posture. “What the fuck is he thinking hiding out for this long? It’s not funny!”

Jeno seemed just as shocked as Mark at Jaemin’s sudden outburst. Jaemin was scared, Mark realised after a moment.

_If I was missing, would you come and find me?_

He watched as Jeno reached out to take Jaemin’s hand, squeezing until Jaemin’s shoulders had stopped heaving.

Mark gripped the strap of his backpack more tightly, if only to relieve some of the pent-up feeling in his body. “Is there no one else who might know?”

Jaemin shook his head, while Jeno stared down at his phone. Then he perked up. “Chenle might know something.”

“Who’s Chenle?”

“He’s a good friend of Hyuck’s.” Jeno’s fingertips flew over his phone screen. “They’re in Drama Club together. You’re going to meet him tomorrow, if you’re coming to the ASA meeting?”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded, trying not to sound as eager as he felt. “Yeah, I’ll definitely be there.”

Jeno smiled at him and even Jaemin seemed to perk up a little at the prospect of Mark joining his club. Mark grinned when Jaemin let himself fall over so Mark had to catch him in a hug. He patted Jaemin on the back, just as the school bell rung.

Jeno shot them both a small smile before he pushed up his glasses, pocketing his phone as he slid off the table. “I’ve got Chem now, so I’ll see you guys at lunch. Mark, can you make sure Nana doesn’t fall asleep in class?”

“I’ll do my best.” Mark laughed, pulling a fake-snoring Jaemin off his shoulder.

“Mark.” Jaemin whined, making grabby hands in his direction. “Will you carry me to class?”

Mark snorted. “In your dreams.”

Jaemin pouted, letting Mark carry his weight for another moment before he pulled himself together. Mark watched in fascination as Jaemin closed his eyes, joined his hands together as if for prayer and when he opened his eyes there was no trace of tiredness left in his features. His smile was as broad as ever as he skipped ahead to lead them to class and Mark found himself shaking his head as he followed.

By the time they had made it to their English classroom, Jaemin had gained back his talkativity alongside his smile and was chewing Mark’s ear off about their English teacher.

“Just wait, you’ll love Mr Nakamoto! He’s _so_ cool. He can recite, like, all of _The Tempest_ off the top of his head!”

Mark tried hard to look like he thought that was as impressive as Jaemin made it sound like. He wasn’t quite sure what was so cool about a teacher being able to memorise the weather forecast like anybody else who looked out of their window in the morning, but he was definitely not going to bring that up to Jaemin’s overly excited face.

Mark preferred the Sciences. He preferred subjects where there was a right or wrong solution, where observances lead him to his goal and he didn’t have to deduce an author’s depression based on their abundant usage of the colour blue in their writing, but he could feign enthusiasm if it meant making Jaemin happy. If the class worked like it had back in Queens, he’d be able to skate by if he read the novel summaries on Wikipedia and begged Taeyong to look over his assignments in time.

He took the seat behind Jaemin, thankful that the first week of classes meant there were no unassigned assigned seats yet. He recognised some of the faces surrounding him from the classes he had had the day before, the tingling at the back of his head telling him that his novelty hadn’t worn off yet. Mark figured that it was understandable. Hell High School had as many students as there had been kids in Mark’s year at his old high school and by the way Jaemin had reacted to him wearing a leather jacket, things didn’t change up here very often.

He lightly shook his head, trying to rid himself off the feeling of being watched.

The focus shifted from him when the door flew open, hitting the adjacent wall with a bang. Mark flinched along with the rest of the class and observed as a wiry man with blond hair walked in, his smile as blindingly white as the starched button-down he was wearing.

“Students!” he exclaimed upon entry, sending his bag flying at his desk with a well-aimed toss before he turned towards the class. “Welcome back to Hell!”

Mark was glad that he wasn’t the only one who groaned at the joke. Mr Nakamoto seemed unfazed as he moved to the outermost table of the front row. In the bright sunlight falling in through the windows, his hair seemed to shimmer the faintest hint of purple.

“Kendra,” he called out, beaming at the girl in question before moving on to the boy next to her, “Jeremy, Mina—oh, Jaemin, new hair-do?”

Mark watched Jaemin preen under the attention, his hand coming up to pat at his hair. Mr Nakamoto went along the tables one by one, greeting each student by name, asking them about their families, pets, summer vacations. Mark hoped he didn’t roll call this way before every class as it took Mr Nakamoto nearly ten minutes to get past the first row.

The teacher stilled when he got to Mark, his eyes boring into Mark’s before his lips quirked into another smile. “Oh, new face! And who are you?”

Mark felt his heartrate spike. “I’m Mark.”

Mr Nakamoto blinked at him before glancing around the classroom. His smile turned apologetic as he shuffled on his feet in front of Mark’s desk. “I’m sorry, I don’t think everybody heard you.”

Mark inhaled slowly, counted to three in his head before he exhaled. “My name is Mark,” he repeated, loudly enough for every in the room to hear.

Mr Nakamoto seemed satisfied this time, giving him a thumbs up before he moved on. Mark sunk deeper in his seat. In another life, he might have snapped back at the teacher’s insistence, but as it was, he was glad that Mr Nakamoto hadn’t demanded he introduce himself properly. The less anyone else in the room knew about him, the better.

Despite Mr Nakamoto’s rather exuberant teaching style, Mark made it through the lesson just fine. It got easier once Mr Nakamoto returned to the front and started handing out copies of the novel they’d be reading first. Mark marvelled at the clear margins of his copy, the crisp edges of the binding. The book was new. Mark didn’t think he had ever worked with an unsullied novel in his entire school career. More importantly, a quick Wikipedia search with his phone under the table reassured him that the book existed to the internet and so Mark was saved.

“For the first couple of lessons, your homework will just be to read the book, but I ask that you please actually do read it. It will make your life, and by extension mine, so much easier if you do.” Mr Nakamoto beamed at them one last time before dismissing the class with a wave.

Mark hurried to gather his things and make a beeline for the door. Unlike Jaemin, who approached Mr Nakamoto’s desk seemingly vibrating with excitement, the class novel clutched between his hands. There was a whole gaggle of girls in line behind him and Mark made sure to take the long route by the back of the class on his way out, lest he bumped into any of them.

In the knowledge that Jaemin had a different class next, Mark didn’t bother to look back as he left the classroom. He had a long day in front of him.

*

Taeyong was asleep on the couch when Mark walked into their living room that afternoon. Mark had come straight home after school, spending the bus ride thinking about how he was going to apologise to his brother. He sighed when he saw that Taeyong was still in his work clothes, a string of drool connecting the corner of his mouth with the cushion beneath him. Taeyong had fallen asleep in front of the TV, the screen showing reruns of a sitcom Mark knew Renjun liked. The smell of grease and spices filled Mark’s nostrils as he leaned forward.

 _No more sleepless nights because of me_ , Mark promised his brother silently before poking him in the cheek. Taeyong’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes flying open as he sat up with a jolt.

“What?” he asked, clutching his blanket before his eyes focussed on Mark and he relaxed. “Oh, Mark.” He rubbed a hand over his face, his cheek lined with the imprint of the couch cushion. “What time is it?”

Mark chanced a glance at the clock on their cable receiver. “Half past four. I came straight home just like you told me.”

Taeyong’s gaze softened. “Thank you.”

Mark kneeled down on the floor so that they were at eye-level before he cocked his head to the side. “The handyman still around?”

He had expected the way Taeyong’s features hardened. “No. I sent him home shortly after you left, but I’ll have you know that he gave me a cost estimate for the renovation and I accepted it, so if you have any more to say about him, I’d prefer if you told me now instead of when he’s here where he might overhear.”

“I’m sorry.”

Taeyong stared at him for a long moment before his gaze fell to his lap, his bottom lip wobbling and Mark felt inclined to punch himself in the face after all. “So what if I thought he was nice. He didn’t recognise me, Mark.”

When Taeyong looked up at him, his eyes were brimming with tears. Mark felt his own eyes burn. _Everything that hurts you, hurts me too._

“When I opened the door, I was so scared, Mark, I was so scared he would look at me like everybody in New York did. I thought he might have recognised my name or my face already, but he hadn’t. He didn’t. He just smiled at me and shook my hand and treated me like the complete stranger that I am to him. Do you know how nice that felt, after more than a year of being jeered at everywhere I went? He treated me like a human being and, yeah, maybe I also think he’s attractive, but that was not what this morning was about, Mark. It was about me hiring a contractor for our home and having a civil conversation with a man that _doesn’t_ know me.”

“I misspoke, Taeyong, I’m really sorry. You can have the hots for anyone you want. I promise, I’ll be civil the next time he’s here.”

There was the hint of a smile on Taeyong’s face. “Don’t worry, you didn’t faze him. He told me his son is your age, so he’s used to teenage temper tantrums.”

Mark felt his heart skip a beat at that. “Did he—” There was a lump in his throat that he had to swallow past. ”Did he say anything else about his son?”

“Not really, we didn’t linger on the topic. We—”

It was the shocked expression on Taeyong’s face more than anything else that made Mark turn around to look at the TV screen. The sitcom had ended, interrupted by a red banner running along the bottom of the screen. The local news were playing behind it. The expression on the news anchor’s face was grim as she spoke and Mark felt his heart sink as he recognised the photo thrown up next to her head. The volume of the TV rose as Taeyong hit the button repeatedly and the news anchor’s voice became audible.

“… 17-year-old Donghyuck Seo went missing some time between Sunday night and Monday morning. According to a statement issued by local Sheriff Doyoung Kim, Hell police are asking the public keep an eye out for any sign of Donghyuck as there are no clues to the teenager’s whereabouts yet. During the time of his disappearance, Donghyuck is presumed to have been wearing black sneakers, black jeans and a neon orange sweatshirt. He is of Asian descent and his hair and eye colour are brown. If you have any information, please contact the number shown at the bottom of the screen or visit Hell County Police’s website for further information.”

Mark continued to stare at the screen, even after the news segment was over.

“How terrible,” he could hear Taeyong murmur behind him. He could feel his brother’s hand brush over his back, instinctively, as if to make sure Mark was still there. Mark couldn’t breathe.

Donghyuck hadn’t come back. He hadn’t popped back up as promised, neither at his parent’s place, nor at Jaemin’s house. He was officially missing. Mark felt his stomach seize painfully with the knowledge that there was a possibility none one had addressed so far, but that had now become frightening reality.

If it wasn’t common for Donghyuck to stay gone for longer than a night, then there had to be something keeping him from coming back since Monday. If Sheriff Kim had sent out an official missing person’s report, then they weren’t treating this case as a bout of teenage rebellion anymore. If Donghyuck had disappeared, then he hadn’t done so of his own volition. Someone had taken him away.

_If I was missing, would you come and find me?_

_Haechan,_ Mark wanted to ask, _who took you away?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The ASA meeting and all the Hell inhabitants it brings. 
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/taeyongseo)  
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	4. Traumtänzer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Träumtänzer (noun, German): one who lives more in his dreams than in reality

In his dream, Mark was running and alone. Branches tugged on his clothes as he forced his way through brushwood, scraped at his hands and face, but Mark couldn’t bring himself to mind when the only thing he could think about was how he had to find him. His heart felt like it was going to explode at any moment, but Mark knew that it would die if he failed and so he kept running. He saw a speck of neon orange glimmer in the periphery of his vision and he turned in that direction, breaking through the trees surrounding him.

His feet found traction on steadier ground and he nearly fell over in his haste to catch up to the boy crossing the middle of the clearing.

“Hey!” Mark called out, panting but the other boy had heard him. Mark could tell by the way his feet, clad in black sneakers, picked up their pace.

Mark frowned. This was wrong. This was all wrong. He wasn’t supposed to run away from Mark.

“Wait!” Mark broke into a full-on sprint.

Once he was within arm’s reach, he caught onto the hood of the neon orange sweatshirt. The motion caused the other boy to come to an abrupt halt and Mark barrelled into him at full speed, making them both to tumble to the ground. Mark wheezed as he rolled onto his back, his knees hurting from the crash. He glanced downwards. The ends of his shoe laces were tied into a bow.

“Please, don’t hurt me!”

Mark looked up in surprise and found the other boy struggling to scramble away from him. His eyes were widened almost comically. Mark looked for the hazard in them but they were dull, blacked out by fear.

“Haechan,” he panted. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Haechan shook his head, his movements frantic as he tried to get up, but fell right back down when his left leg wouldn’t support him. There was no recognition in his eyes as he raised his arms as if to protect himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please—”

“Haechan!”

The other boy began to cry as he pulled himself across the ground, his fingers digging into the earth to move himself along. Mark scrambled to his knees, willing to crawl after his dream but then suddenly he found himself pushed onto his back, and Haechan was on top of him, his hand coming down to cover Mark’s mouth.

This time, there was recognition in Haechan’s eyes, and alongside it an urgency that made Mark go limp. The tips of Haechan’s fingers were cold as he pressed them into Mark’s cheek, but his body on top of Mark’s was searing Mark’s skin even through their clothing. Cold burn.

“You have to be quiet, Dream.”

Mark pressed his lips together, tried to translate all the confusion and worry he felt into his gaze as he let Haechan press them into the ground. As if the ground would open to hide them. As if that could make them invisible.

Mark counted to ten in his head before he slowly reached up to pull Haechan’s hand off his mouth.

“What are you afraid of?” he whispered.

Haechan stared at him, his lips glued shut by fear before he took Mark’s hand. Mark watched as Haechen interlinked their pinkies. Haechan’s eyes were begging him to understand and Mark did.

“Hold on,” Mark murmured and held on tightly when Haechan sagged against him. His cheek was cold against Mark’s. His hair was soft when Mark buried his fingers in the brown strands. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll find you soon.”

*

The first thing Mark saw when he stepped off the bus was an abundance of white decorating the school grounds. Taped to every lamp post, entrance door and fence was a flyer Mark was all too familiar with. He didn’t need to look at any of the posters to recall Donghyuck’s face, his information, what he had been wearing the night he had disappeared.

 _Have you seen me?_ the headline above his picture read.

 _Yes,_ Mark wanted to tell him, _every night._

He found Jaemin and Jeno in front of the gym, the both of them busy taping another flyer to the vitreous entrance door. Jaemin placed the paper at eye-level, holding it against the glass with his palm while Jeno handed him the scraps of tape he had prepared.

The expressions on their faces were grim when Mark greeted them. Even Jeno’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I saw the news.” Mark hitched his backpack higher up his shoulder before he gestured to the stack of posters still wedged under Jaemin’s arm. “Can I help?”

“We’re almost done here.” Jeno sighed as he pushed the duct tape on his wrist like a bracelet before he took the remaining flyers from Jaemin. “I’ll hand these out to the swim team and then we’re all out.”

“How long have you been sticking up flyers? It looks like the entire school is covered.”

“That’s because it is.” Jaemin picked up his backpack from the ground. His smile was thin when he looked at Mark, his expression darkening when the school bell rang. Neither of them made a move to leave. “I got Jae to drive us here at around six and we’ve been at it ever since.”

“I’m sure it will help.” Jeno threw his arm around Jaemin’s shoulder and Mark watched Jaemin’s expression brighten up. “I know Doyoung gave Johnny free rein on the flyers so I’m sure by tonight every inch of town will be covered.”

“Do the Sheriff and your brother have any leads yet?” Mark knew it was risky to ask, but Jeno and Jaemin were the only people he could talk to without speaking to the policemen directly.

Jaemin shook his head. “Jae and the Sheriff are making the rounds right now. They went to Johnny’s house first thing in the morning and after that Jae said they would be talking to people, see if anyone has seen something.”

“I’m sure someone must have seen something.” The optimism in Jeno’s eyes was bright. Mark envied him for that. “I mean, Hell isn’t that big and Hyuck can’t just have vanished. He has to be somewhere.”

 _Please, don’t hurt me!_ Haechan’s voice echoed in his head. Mark swallowed. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please—_

Mark cleared his throat. “I really hope so. I’m sure the flyer will help, too.”

The smile Jaemin gave him in return was laden with emotion and Mark did his best to reciprocate it.

The three of them nearly jumped when the school bell rang another time.

“Fuck, we’re going to be so late. I’ll see you at lunch.” Jeno gave them both a short-lived hug before he picked up his bag and disappeared into the gym.

Mark offered Jaemin his arm once the door fell shut behind their friend. He had a feeling that Jaemin could use it. The grateful smile Jaemin shot him in return was worth it and Mark had no problem carrying both of their weight towards the Humanities building.

They were ten minutes late by the time they arrived at their English classroom, but the door was still open. Mr Nakamoto was inside, sitting at his desk and typing away on his laptop while the rest of the class was reading quietly at their desks. Mark tried to make as little noise as possible as he followed Jaemin to their seats, so that they didn’t disturb the silence. Mr Nakamoto looked up as they were halfway to their desks, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he picked up the book lying next to him, the novel they were supposed to read, and waved it at them with a smiling, silent reminder.

Mark stared at his face for only a moment before his attention was caught by the teacher’s hand. The sleeve of his sweater had slid down towards his elbow and the silver on his hands was catching in the light falling in through the windows. There was an abundance of rings adorning his fingers, a slim band on each of his ring fingers and more clunky rings on his pointer and pinkie fingers. And around his wrist, held together by a sun-shaped bead, a neon orange friendship bracelet was wrapped. Before Mark could get a good look, Mr Nakamoto had set the book down and resumed typing on his laptop.

Mark ducked his head and slunk into his seat. Pastel streaked his vision every time he blinked and he spent the next two hours staring at the inside of his book without absorbing a single word. He found solace only in the fact that he didn’t seem to be the only one who couldn’t concentrate.

The air was thick with tension when he followed Jaemin out of the English classroom and it seemed to become thicker with each hallway they walked down. Mark felt like everywhere they went, they passed by small groups of students whispering to each other, showing each other the flyers they had plucked from the walls. Donghyuck’s disappearance had made local news and so now the locals were interested.

Mark might have slowed down and listened to what some of them had to say, but Jaemin next to him was marching on without sparing a glance at anyone and Mark hurried not to fall behind. He walked Jaemin all the way to his next class before he left for his own, turning away from Jaemin and his shaking hands only once he was sure that Jeno, in the same class, would take care of him.

The news of Donghyuck’s disappearance spread rapidly enough that even Mark’s Biology teacher joined in, offering to discuss the topic of Donghyuck’s disappearance at the beginning of her lesson, but with little more info than when he had disappeared and what he had been wearing, it died down quickly. The whispers, however, remained. In a town like Hell, where nothing ever changed, any kind of crime was cause for public uproar.

By the time lunch rolled around, Mark was thoroughly sick of it. He was also thoroughly sick of being stared at. If Mark had felt like he had been under a microscope the days before, the effect had quadrupled now that he was eating lunch with Jeno and Jaemin.

From time to time, there would be a student brave enough to come up to their table to express their condolences— _as if he’s dead,_ Mark thought bitterly—or try to snoop around for some gossip. Those made Jeno indent the plastic of his blue Gatorade bottle

Mark was ready to tell the next person to their face that they’d better fuck off—Jaemin looked this close to crying—but he stopped himself when he recognised the girl that had approached their table. He had to rack his brain for a moment to remember her name, but eventually he got it. The girl with the pink-painted lips was Mina.

“Hey, Mark,” she chirped and Mark found himself surprised that she remembered his name. Apart from Jeno and Jaemin, she was the first person who had dared to approach him directly.

“Uh. Hi, Mina.”

Mina smiled at him, gesturing for him to come with her and Mark felt his stomach sink with dread. He glanced at Jeno and Jaemin, as if the two of them would know why she wanted to talk to him, but Jeno was busy petting the hair of a sniffling Jaemin and so Mark pushed himself to his feet. He wasn’t sure either of his friends even registered his quiet “be right back.”

“It’s beautiful out here, don’t you think?” Mina chattered away as she lead him across the quad, to a bench that stood near the entrance to the Science building. “Usually it’s already bitter cold by this time of the year, but we seem to have gotten lucky with the sun this time around.”

Mark took a cursory look around and found that most of the people around them were preoccupied with themselves, save for a small gaggle of girls sitting on a blanket on the lawn. The stark colours on their lips and the rather obvious way they were trying to watch them from afar told Mark that these ought to be Mina’s friends. He didn’t let his gaze linger on them.

Mark wasn’t stupid. He knew there were only two reasons why a girl like Mina would want to talk to him and she didn’t seem to be the kind to make fun of other people. He turned his head just in time to see her push her hair off her shoulder. He had noticed her in his classes the past couple of days, her high ponytail and bright smile making her hard to miss. He’d even waved back whenever she had smiled at him in the hallways. A part of him regretted that now. He wasn’t like Taeyong. He didn’t revel in attention.

“Why’d you ask me here for?” Better to rip the bandaid right off.

Mina halted in her rambling about the weather— _the weather_ —, her mouth forming a perfect o-shape as she perked up. “Right, I wanted to ask you whether you wanted to get lunch with me!”

Mark forced himself to smile, rubbing the back of his head. “Uh, sorry, I already have food.”

“Oh, not today, of course!” Mina’s smile was sweet, a hint of colour appearing on her cheeks. “I meant tomorrow, or any day of the week, really! Whenever you’ve got the time, I’d love to eat with you. Just with you. You know, there’s this really good diner in town, it’s called Moon’s and—”

“Mina.” Mark tried his hardest not to grimace.

She broke off, looking at him expectantly. Her chest was heaving slightly from talking so much and Mark didn’t miss the hope in her eyes.

He felt awkward as he tried to come up with the right words. He was too good ar hurting people to be trusted with letting someone down, but at the same time he had to be firm. He licked his lips. 

“Mina, do you like girls?”

Her eyes went wide. “What?”

“Do you like girls?” he repeated. “As in, do you like girls romantically?”

“What?” She spluttered. “No, of course not!”

“Great!” Mark interrupted her before she could say anymore. “Because me neither. Girls aren’t really my thing, if you get what I mean.”

He watched the realisation unfold in Mina’s eyes like a car crash. Her eyes widened almost comically, her mouth dropping open. “Oh. _Oh,_ you’re—”

“Yep," Mark nearly winced at himself, "and I’m sorry, but I can’t go out with you. Not because I don’t like you, but because I don’t really swing that way and I feel like going on a date with you might give you the wrong impression. Do you understand that?”

“O-of course.” Mina looked down as she pulled the scrunchy from her hair to let it fall into her face, probably to hide the beet-red colour of her face. “Gosh, this is so embarrassing. I’m sorry.”

Mark smiled. She was a sweet girl. He was sure she would get over it. They didn’t really know each other, after all. “Don’t worry. It’s all good.”

He pulled himself to his feet before the air between them could turn awkward. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Mina gave him a meek wave and Mark left, secure in the knowledge that her girl friends had watched every second of their interaction. When Mark returned to his table, Jeno was alone.

“Jaemin went to call Jaehyun for updates,” he explained even before Mark could ask.

Mark nodded as he let himself fall back onto his seat. “How are you holding up?”

It was something he had been wondering throughout the day. Whenever it seemed like Jaemin was seconds away from a nervous breakdown, Jeno had been there to hold his hand, share with him his sheer endless optimism. Mark wondered how much of a toll that took on Jeno.

“I’m okay, I just keep thinking mostly.” Jeno smiled at him, but it was feeble. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m not the only person who’s wondering what happened, but it’s like my mind keeps going over every single thing I know about Hyuck and where he might’ve gone, but I still come up blank.”

Jeno looked down, the plastic of his Gatorade bottle crinkling as he indented it. “Did you know that Jaemin and I hung out with him that day? We had a sleepover on Saturday and then on Sunday morning my mum and I dropped Hyuck off at his house on our way home. Johnny said him and Hyuck had a fight before he ran away that night. I keep wondering what if I had invited Hyuck over to mine’s instead of dropping him off? What if had called him instead of watching a movie with my dad? He’s my best friend.”

When Jeno looked back up, his eyes had taken on a watery shine. Mark thought that being stabbed in the heart would have hurt less than seeing Jeno on the verge of tears. “I want to believe that Donghyuck is really still hiding out there somewhere. That he’s just waiting for the right time to come back. That he’ll saunter into our ASA meeting today and laugh at us all for believing we could ever get rid off him. He’d probably still laugh while I kick his ass for scaring us that much.”

Mark felt his eyes burn as he smiled. “He sounds like quite something.”

“Hyuck, he’s—he’s _everything._ He’s funny and loving and smart too, even if his grades don’t show it. He once taught himself the entire Genetics chapter of our Biology book in one night just so he could hide out in the toilets and help Jaemin during his retake. He’s bright and I don’t—” this time, the tears in Jeno’s eyes flowed over before he could wipe them away— “I don’t want to think about how he’s not here when he should be. I don’t want to think about how my best friend might have been kidnapped or—or _murdered_ while I sit here and wonder whether I’ll make it onto the relay line-up this year.” The small laugh Jeno let out was nothing but self-deprecating, hinting at a broken heart that the other boy had been very good at hiding so far. “I swear to god I’m going to beat the crap out of this kid when he comes back. It’s like the sun doesn’t shine when he’s not here. Just like that stupid stage name he gave himself.”

Mark felt his heart skip a beat. “Stage name?”

“Yeah, it’s this thing he came up with when he got the main role for the winter musical. He insisted on having a stage name because that’s what Cher did, too. He convinced the teacher to put it on the posters as well and stuff.”

“What—” Mark swallowed past the lump in his throat. “What is his stage name?”

“Haechan.” Jeno smiled. “It means full sun. I think Chenle came up with it. You can ask him about it later at the ASA meeting.”

Mark tried hard not to let any of the emotion he felt show on his face. His heart was beating erratically in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text. Yukhei’s reply came within seconds and Mark could breathe easier. He needed help, and Yukhei lived with just the guy Mark needed. He locked his phone.

“I’m looking forward to the meeting.”

Jeno’s expression brightened at that. “Don’t forget the snacks!”

Mark shook his head. “Oh, I would never.”

*

The room the Asian Student Association and Gay Straight Alliance shared was in the basement of the Humanities building. Laughter greeted Mark as he pushed open the door one-handedly, balancing a tray of muffins that he had scavenged from the school cafeteria with the other. Mark stopped dead in his tracks.

When he had learned that it was Jaemin who had founded the club, he had expected something like the meeting room of an office, minimalist furnishings and a white-board to hold all of Jaemin’s brilliant ideas. Something as prim and proper as Jaemin himself was.

Reality looked a bit different.

The first thing he was confronted with was the smell of popcorn and cheap soda. Someone had pushed all the old school tables and chairs to the walls to make room for the mismatched assortment of arm chairs and sofas that stood in a circle in the middle of the room. There were a handful of people sitting on the sofas already.

Mark forewent them for the moment to make a beeline for the table with the food instead. He set his tray down next to a stack of red solo cups and grabbed himself one.

The girl manning the popcorn machine shot him a broad smile. “You brought food. Very good.”

Mark picked up a bottle of off-brand pepsi. “I was told that I could pay my application fee like this.”

“Ah.” Something like recognition flashed in the girls’ eyes. “You’re the new kid. Mark Lee.”

Mark raised an eyebrow.

“Mina told me.” The girl waved at the sitting area and Mark was surprised to find Mina sitting there, playing a clapping game with another, short-haired girl. He felt the corners of his mouth tug into a smile when he noticed the girls were sitting on a lip-shaped two-seater. The colour of the fabric fit the lipstick of the second girl to a tee.

“I’m Soyeon, by the way.”

Mark reached over his own arm holding the bottle of soda to shake her hand. “Mark, but you already know that. Jeno invited me.”

“Ah, yes, I heard Jeno and Jaemin have adopted you. How are you liking Hell so far?”

Mark grinned behind the rim of his cup and Soyeon nodded in understanding. She turned the popcorn machine off before filling up two bags and walking over to the sofas. Mark followed her.

“Mark!” Jaemin cheered when Mark sat down on the sofa next to him. “Everyone, this is Mark Lee. Mark, those are Mina and Yerim.” He pointed at the two girls on the lip-shaped sofa. “Soyeon's the one with the popcorn and those two over there are Jisung and Chenle.”

Mark felt his interest piqued as he looked at the two boys sitting across from him. The taller of the two, Jisung, sat near-rigid in his seat, his hands squeezed between his thighs while his gaze flicked around almost nervously.

Mark felt the instinctive need to ask him whether he was okay. Jaemin seemed to have read his thoughts because he patted Mark’s thigh reassuringly. “Don’t worry about Jisungie. He’s our baby sophomore and he has the misfortune of being Chenle’s best friend, that’s why he always looks like he’s in pain.”

“Ah.” Mark hummed as if he understood what that meant.

“And why his hair is blue.”

“Hey!” Chenle, who had been sprawled across the length of the couch with his head bedded on Jisung’s thigh, sat up so he could glare at Jaemin. “Stop slandering me, Jaemin! I didn’t force Sungie to dye his hair with me! He chose the colour himself!”

Jaemin clacked his tongue. “Sure, he did. So you didn’t dye his hair blue to see whether the colour would hold because you wanted to use it for your own purple?”

Chenle’s mouth opened in indignation, but before he could protest any further, they were interrupted when the door of the room flew open and Jeno came in. He was closely followed by another boy clad in the same varsity jacket as him, who was rubbing his arm.

“Sorry, guys!” Jeno flopped down in between Jisung and Chenle. “Yangyang got his arm stuck in the vending machine again.”

“I almost had it,” the other boy, Yangyang, grumbled before he sat down next to Mark.

Mark withstood the urge to stare at him until Yangyang addressed him directly. “Oh, fresh meat! ‘Sup, dude? I’m Yangyang.”

“Mark,” Mark introduced himself and bumped his fist against Yangyang’s.

“And with that we’re complete!” Jaemin sprang up from his seat to close the door. “Then I’m proud to welcome you all to the ASA’s first meeting of the semester.”

Everyone gave a low whoop and Mark swallowed the off-brand Pepsi in his mouth to follow suit.

“I’ve got some points of discussion prepared for today.” Everyone except for Jeno groaned at that. Jaemin brought them all to silence with a glare before he picked up his usual smile. “ _However,_ if someone wants to discuss something, I’m open to hearing them out right now.”

There was silence for a moment before one of the girls raised her hands. It was Yerim, whom Mark hadn’t heard talk before.

“Yes, Yerim?”

“I was wondering whether you or Jeno know anything about what happened with Donghyuck?” Yerim bit her lip. “I saw the posters this morning and I’ve been worried ever since. Is he really missing? Or is this one of his pranks? Like that time he set a chicken free in the cafeteria to protest the lack of vegan options on the menu?”

Mark watched as Jaemin’s hands began to shake, just slightly. Before anyone else could notice, Jeno cleared his throat. He stood up and guided Jaemin to take his seat before he smiled at Yerim. “The truth is that we don’t know either. The last time anyone saw him was Sunday night at his house. He bolted after a fight with his dad and has been gone ever since.”

“Three days,” Mina said. Mark could see how she squeezed Yerim’s hand. “That’s not that much. He could still be out there sulking somewhere.”

“No way.” Chenle shook his head. “Donghyuck would have shown up to Drama.”

“Not necessarily,” Jisung spoke up. He seemed to regret it a moment later when all eyes fell on him. “I mean, Mr Nakamoto was sick on Monday so practice was cancelled. No Drama Club, no Hyuck at school.”

“But that’s good! So he’s not under the floorboards somewhere.”

“Yangyang!” Soyeon threw her popcorn at him.

“What? I said it’s a good thing we can assume that’s not what happened! _Scheiße,_ I like him just as much as everybody else. I don’t want him to be dead.”

“I think this discussion is fruitless." Jeno’s eyes didn’t leave Jaemin’s slumped over form as he spoke. “We should talk about something else.”

Jaemin’s hands cramped over his ears before he looked up. His body seemed to relax the longer he held Jeno’s gaze and then he stood up again. “Jeno is right. None of us know where he is or what happened to him, so we shouldn’t speculate. We should let the police do their work and if I can, I’ll weasel some information out of my big brother.”

“Thank you,” Yerim whispered.

Jaemin smiled at her before he clapped his hands. “With that being said, we should move on. I made a list of some organisational stuff we have to talk about so we should start with that.”

Mark tuned out Jaemin’s voice as he watched the rest of the group sink deeper into their seats. Most of them were listening to Jaemin. Even Yangyang, who had taken to picking up the leftovers of Soyeon’s popcorn from the floor and popping the kernels into his mouth, seemed willing to give Jaemin all of his attention. The only ones not listening were Mina and Yerim. Mark strained his ears to understand what they were whispering about.

“…fine, I’m sure,” Mina murmured.

“We practiced all summer,” Yerim gave back just as quietly. “Donghyuck was so excited when Yuta told us he’d get to play Danny Zuko. It’s not fair that he’s missing now. Whatever happened, he needs to come back.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“He better. I’ll kill him if he leaves me alone on that stage.”

Mark looked down at the funny feeling that spread in his stomach. For a moment, he suspected the off-brand Pepsi but then he realised that it was relief. He was relieved.

He’d been scared when Yerim had first spoken up, not because she had asked about Donghyuck but what that might have meant for the two of them. But the way that she was talking about him now made clear that they hadn’t been more than friends, partners only on stage. Rubbing his chest, Mark relaxed into his seat as the jealous feeling inside his chest dissipated. 

*

Mark suppressed a sigh when he found Taeyong standing in the small entrance hall of their house, his brother’s eyes glued to Johnny’s arms as the handyman was busy detaching their overhead light from the ceiling. Johnny’s hips were swaying lightly in order to balance himself on the small ladder he was standing on and Mark squinted at his brother’s chin to check for traces of drool. 

Taeyong jolted when Mark snatched the half-eaten muesli bar out of his hand. He took a big bite before skipping up the stairs. He could hear Taeyong curse after him, but Mark considered it payment for his silence. 

Once inside his room, he let his backpack drop to the ground and looked around the room. Most of it was bare as he hadn’t gotten to unpacking yet. That would have to change. Pulling his keys from his pocket, Mark walked over to the first of his moving boxes and slit the packing tape open with his house key. He was delighted when he found what he had been looking for right away. 

The movie posters were old, lines running over the paper where they had been folded but Mark couldn’t have cared less. He laid them out on the ground in front of him before diving back into the box and procuring his old pencil case. Once he had successfully pulled out his old assortment of graffiti markers from the mountains of eraser dust, he discarded the pencil case and sat down on the ground. He flipped the posters one by one. Then he began to write. 

 _Who?_ he scribbled onto the first poster and circled the word before moving on. _What?_ he wrote onto the next and then turned towards the last. _Dreams,_ he wrote down in all caps before putting the cap back on the marker and grabbing another one. 

The list of suspects was the easiest and hardest to compile at the same time. _Everyone in this goddamn town except for Taeyong and I,_ Mark thought bitterly, but there were names in his mind, some more prominent than others and he forced himself to write down all of them.

The first name that he wrote down was Mr Nakamoto’s. _Yuta,_ Yerim had called him. The thought of neon orange friendship bracelets brought Mark to write down _Jeno_ and _Jaemin_ as well. His heart hurt as he looked at their names in red ink, but he forced himself to move on. _Chenle,_ he added below them, thinking about the exuberant boy he had met only hours before. _X_ he wrote next. Never forget the unpredictable variable, Renjun had once told him. It had been in reference to an episode of X-Files they had watched where the red-haired lead lady had turned out to be an alien or something, but still, the advice was good. At last, Mark wrote down the name of the man currently in his house. _Johnny._ He had to consider everyone. 

The next poster, Mark skipped. It was not something he wanted to think about. The ideas were there, in his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to write any of them down. _So, he’s not under the floorboards somewhere,_ Yangyang had said. Mark pushed the _What?_ poster below the _Who?_ poster and turned towards the last. _Dreams._

Even now, wide awake, Mark could conjure up the sight of Haechan’s voice, the trill of his laughter, the revibrations of his pained screams in Mark’s chest. It was a split second decision, but Mark knew who could help him with the last of his posters. He fumbled his phone out of his back pocket. Yukhei's contact was still open from their conversation earlier today. He sent him another text, asking him to come online. For this one, he needed his friends. 

Yukhei’s reply came within seconds and Mark bridged the time that it took for his laptop to boot up by putting up the first two posters with his notes hidden against the wall. He needed the posters to arrange the mess in his mind, but he could not have Taeyong find out about them. It would send his brother into a fit that Mark was not prepared to deal with. He didn’t doubt that Taeyong would move them right to the next town in the middle of nowhere if he so much as caught a whiff of what Mark was doing. 

The familiar tune of his Skype account connecting shook Mark out of his thoughts and he let himself fall onto his bed, propping his laptop up on his knees. His speakers blared the tune of an incoming call even before Mark could move his cursor. Grinning with the feeling of anticipation in his gut, Mark clicked on the green button. 

“Mark!” Mark’s speakers crinkled with the sheer volume of Yukhei’s voice. Pushing his volume button down, Mark waved into the camera. Despite the semi-permanent hearing damage, it felt incredibly good to see his friend again. Yukhei was sitting in his room in his gaming chair that Mark himself had spent countless of hours in and he was waving his hands frantically. 

“Yo, bro!” Mark gave back. He couldn’t contain the grin on his face. For the first time in a week, the chasm of longing in his chest felt somewhat filled. “How are you? How are things back home?” 

“Eh,” Yukhei waved him off. “Same old, same old, but I wanna hear about you! What are you doing there in buttfuck nowhere without us, man?” 

Mark felt his smile falter, if only for a fraction. “It’s okay.” 

He tried to be as vague as possible as he talked about the new house, Taeyong and how the stars were visible from where he was now, but he could tell that Yukhei saw straight through his bullshit. 

“Markie,” he interrupted him eventually, “are you sure you’re fine? You look a bit, uh, restless, man.” 

Mark forced his limbs to still. “I’m fine.” 

“Are you really? Because you know if someone’s giving you trouble over there, you just have to say the word and I’m putting my ass and Renjun’s into the next plane and we’ll deal with it.” 

Mark smiled, if only he had forgotten how it felt to have someone like Yukhei on his side. “Thanks, man, but I promise no one’s giving me trouble.”

 _You can’t fight my dreams,_ Mark wanted to tell him. Instead, he changed the topic. “Hey, speaking of Injunnie, is his phone broken or something?” 

“What?” Yukhei’s eyes went round like saucers. “Why?” 

“He hasn’t been answering any of my texts since Friday. We talked on the phone when Yong and I stayed at that shitty motel during our first day of driving here, but ever since then it’s been radio silence.” 

Yukhei’s eyebrows furrowed and Mark saw him reach for his own phone. “I don’t believe he’s ghosting you.” Yukhei typed away on his phone, licking his lips. Mark waited patiently while Yukhei’s fingers fumbled with his phone until he eventually looked up. ”He’s not answering me either, so he’s probably just stuck crocheting with his mom or whatever hobby Mrs Huang has picked up now.” 

Mark allowed Yukhei’s easy words and easier smile to console him. “Okay. Yeah, you’re probably right. Just, tell him to text me the next time you see him, okay?” 

Yukhei’s expression softened. “Of course. I love you, man, and Renjun loves you too. He’ll answer you in no time.” 

Mark nodded. It was the truth, he knew that. He had just needed Yukhei to remind him. “I love you guys, too. I guess it just sucks that you’re not here.”

“We’ll come visit you!” Yukhei grinned when Mark snorted. “No, I’m serious. Even if there’s no one to beat up for you, Renjun and I are definitely going to make the trip. My parents are in Bali right now, but once they’re back I can easily weasel one or two grand out of them and then Renjun and I are coming for your newfound country ass.” 

Mark wanted to tell Yukhei that he was crazy, that a weekend trip wasn’t worth the cost, but then he couldn’t help but long for what Yukhei was describing. He’d given a good chunk of his inheritance fund within a heartbeat if it meant seeing his friends again. “I’d like that.” 

Yukhei beamed at him. “You got it, bro.”

The mention of Yukhei’s family reminded Mark why he had called Yukhei on Skype in the first place. “Hey, Yukhei, can I talk to your evil twin for a moment?” 

“Huh?” Yukhei blinked before realisation dawned on his face. “Oh, sure!” 

Mark swallowed down his nerves as Yukhei began moving. He got an excellent view of Yukhei’s nostrils as the other boy lifted his laptop to carry Mark out of his room and across the hall. There was the unmistakable sound of Yukhei’s fist hitting the door to his brother’s room. Then it was opened. 

“Yes?” 

“Markie wants to talk to you.” 

“Oh, cool. Set him down on my desk.” 

Mark was jiggled up and down as Yukhei bulldozed his way through the piles of black clothing in his way. He huffed when he hit his head on one of the plants hanging from the ceiling, but made his way to the desk otherwise unharmed. “Dude, there’s like no space on here.”

“Just set him down on the ouija board, it’s fine.” 

Mark waited patiently as he was set down and adjusted. Yukhei waved at him in temporary goodbye, promising to pick him up in thirty minutes unless he received an SOS text from Mark asking for early extraction, before he left the room. He yelped when his twin kicked him in the butt on his way out the door and Mark covered his mouth to keep in his laughter. 

Mark was still grinning when Yukhei’s brother flopped down in his desk chair. “Hi, Mark.” 

“Hi, Hendery.” 

Hendery grinned at him, flapping his beringed hands in a wave. “How are you? How’s Oregon?” 

“I’m fine. Oregon’s okay.” Mark hoped that the semi-bad connection would hide the worst of his under eye circles. “I like your nails.” 

“Oh, thank you.” Hendery wriggled his black nails before propping his chin on his hands. “Dejun did them for me. We’re initiating a new member tomorrow so I wanted to look presentable.” 

“The cult is growing?” 

“It’s not a cult.” Hendery sighed. “We’re an Association of Occultism Devotees and Free-Spirited Thinkers. There’s nothing cult-like about it, except that we have a leader. But so do all of Xuxi’s sports teams, so I really don’t think the comparison is fair.” 

Mark knew Hendery had had that discussion with Yukhei many times. Mark didn’t blame Yukhei for it. Hendery’s interests were obscure, not something the average person would have sought out to invest themselves in, but there was also not a bad bone in his body. Yukhei feared that that made Hendery susceptible to people taking advantage of him, financially and even more so emotionally. 

That’s why they had accompanied Hendery to the first couple of his cult meetings. Yukhei had calmed down once they had found out that Hendery’s witch club was really not more than half a dozen Supernatural geeks meeting twice a week in the club leader’s basement. Said club leader, Dejun, might have been Mark’s first choice to ask for advice as the guy was a walking encyclopedia for the occult, but if it did turn out that Mark was crazy, he preferred it if it stayed in the family, namely with Hendery. 

“I believe you.” Mark watched Hendery light up at those words. He knew he didn’t get to hear them often. “Actually, I came here to ask for advice on something of a more _different_ nature.” 

“You’re asking me?” Hendery wriggled in excitement, the feather earring pierced through his left ear fluttering. “Sure! How can I help?” 

“I wanted to talk to you about dreams.” 

“Oh, _dreams.”_ Hendery pouted. “That’s not my forte, I gotta say. I’m much more well-versed when it comes to vampires and demonic creatures, but I’ll try my best. What is it that you want to know?” 

“I’ve been having these dreams…about a boy.”

“Oh.” Hendery’s eyes lit up with a different type of interest. “Is he cute?”

“Is he—uh, that’s not important! I mean, yes, he’s cute. Objectively speaking, of course, but that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

Hendery’s smile was nothing short of gleeful as he sat back in his chair. “Okay, I’m all ears.”

Mark took a deep breath and then he told Hendery about his dreams, about Haechan who was with him in his dreams and Donghyuck who was missing in reality.

“I just don’t—I just don’t understand why I keep seeing him, but it’s so real when he’s there in my dreams, Henny. The things he does, I can’t be making that up. Not all of it. Not him, I—”

“You’re right.”  

“Thank you.”

“No, Mark.” Mark looked up when Hendery moved closer to the lens and Mark could make out the worry lines on his forehead. “I mean that literally that you’re right. You can’t have been making him up. As I said, I don’t know much about dreams, but I do know that it’s impossible for your brain to make up someone’s face in your dream. You can’t dream of someone that you haven’t seen before.”

“But I didn’t even know Haechan was real until I found out about Donghyuck.” Mark felt his stomach clench with discomfort. “How’s that possible?” 

“There’s a higher power at work, most likely.”

Mark did his best not to groan. Hendery seemed to have gotten the message anyways. 

“No, Mark, listen. I’m not sure about this, I’ll have to ask Dejun, but the way that you’ve described it to me, that Donghyuck kid went missing the night you had your first dream, right?”

Mark swallowed. He had never made that connection before. “Yeah.”

Hendery nodded as if his suspicion had been confirmed. “Then I think you’re seeing him because he’s calling out to you. Well, not _you_ specifically, but you’re the boy whose dreams he accidentally slid into.”

Mark didn’t want to admit that the thought of Haechan having entered his dreams “accidentally” hurt. However much of a burden his dreams were, he would have never given them up if it meant having Haechan in return. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“I think it’s very good.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “Why?”

Hendery smiled. “Because if I’m right and you’re seeing him because he’s calling out to you, then that means he’s not dead. It means that as long as you’re dreaming of him, you still have a chance to find him alive.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/taeyongseo)   
>  [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/taeyongseo)   
>  [the official tdc playlist](http://open.spotify.com/playlist/3YEKeV2un8uCm32Zu3jSDS?si=Mwks7_9_RMCAGrRcuQRn_g)


	5. The Tempest

In his dream, Mark felt his heart rate slow as he lay on the ground. The only source of warmth was the body pressed against his. His hands were steady as he curled them into the thick fabric of Haechan’s sweatshirt, pulled him closer until he could bury his nose in the unruly stands of Haechan’s hair. 

Haechan didn’t have a scent, merely smelled like the earth surrounding them, but Mark didn’t mind, not when he could hold him. Not when he felt this calm, untouchable as long as Haechan was in his arms, the other boy’s breath hitting Mark’s neck in even intervals. 

Mark shivered when Haechan pushed his hands under the hem of his shirt. His abdominal muscles contracted under the cold touch but it was worth the content hum Haechan let out, the way he snuggled closer until he could fit his entire body into the curve of Mark’s body. 

Mark was sure that he could have spent an eternity like this and not regretted a single second, but he couldn’t help but worry. 

“Are you cold?” 

Haechan blinked his eyes open, rolling them before he looked up to meet Mark’s gaze. His lips formed a heart shape as he smiled. “Are you?” 

“No.” Mark _was_ cold, but he didn’t want Haechan to pull away from him. 

“You’re still a bad liar, Dream. Anyways, we should get naked.” 

“What?” Mark would have sat up, hadn’t it been for the tight, cold grip Haechan had on his bare waist. Squeezing his eyes shut, he banished every thought of bare, sunkissed skin from his mind before he opened them again. 

Haechan was laughing at him, his shoulders shaking with the force of his silent laughter as he threw one leg over Mark’s thigh to keep him from backing away. 

Mark scowled at him. “Why would you say that?” 

Haechan’s eyes were still bright with mirth as he closed the distance between them, pressing his forehead against Mark’s shoulder. “It’s how you transfer body heat. It works way faster without clothes. Have you never seen Twilight, Dream?” 

Mark felt his mouth drop open. “Are you really taking body heat tips from a movie about vampires? You know those _cold,_ dead creatures?” 

Haechan scoffed into his clavicle. “No, I’m taking tips from the _hot_ werewolf character.” 

Mark gasped. He had only seen the movie once, but he knew that was a criminal offense in Hendery’s book. “You were Team Jacob?” 

“Of course. Edward was way selfish and Jacob just tried his best.” 

“But Edward was there first!” 

“Yeah, and then he left.” Haechan clacked his tongue. “Total douchebag, in my opinion. I would have never left.” 

Mark wanted to laugh, but then he felt the smile die on his lips. _But you did,_ he didn’t say and instead held Haechan tighter. It was a long time before he could bring himself to let go. 

By then, night had fallen and the forest around them had come to life. Mark didn’t know with what, but he wasn’t scared. This was his dreamscape. This was where he was safe. 

“I’ll see if I can make a fire.” Mark was reluctant to disentangle himself from Haechan’s grip, but with the sun gone, he needed to find another way to keep them warm. 

Haechan let out a displeased noise. He made no move to follow Mark when Mark pulled himself to his feet. 

Mark frowned. “Aren’t you going to help me?” 

Haechan looked up at him and his eyes were shining, even in the dark of the night. He wasn’t smiling and that should have been the first warning sign. “No.” 

“Why not?” Mark bent down to retie the tangled laces of his shoes. He had no intent to fall on his face, dream or not. 

When he looked back up, Haechan had rolled onto his back. His fingers were digging into the earth, the muscles of his body shifting as he arched his back before his muscles relaxed and he sprawled out on the ground. He glared at Mark and the anger in his eyes was bare. 

“Because I can’t get up.” 

*

Mark was woken up by the sound of hushed voices filtering in through the ajar door of his room. It had been closed when he had gone to sleep, but must have sprung open during the night. Mark cursed the broken lock and threw his pillow at the door, but to no avail. 

“Thank you for coming in so early,” Taeyong’s voice drifted up the stairs and Mark withstood the urge to curl up under his blanket to block out the noise. “I have an early shift at the diner today so I wouldn’t have been able to let you in any later. I hope I didn’t wake you up with my phone call.” 

“That’s okay.” Deep laughter and Mark cursed as he kicked off his blanket. “I wasn’t asleep. You talked about a problem on the phone?” 

“Yes, in the kitchen. I’m not sure what’s wrong but I think there’s something wrong with the piping. When I tried to turn on the faucet of the kitchen sink, only a dribble came out. Same in the downstairs bathroom.” 

Mark rolled from his bed onto the floor and kicked off the blanket for good as he stumbled towards the door. He felt the urge to throw it shut and pass out again on the pillow conveniently lying right there, but he knew that it would have done him no good. So he pried the door open instead and staggered into the bathroom. 

The thought that Johnny might shut off the water now that he was here crossed his mind and so Mark hurried under the shower. The water was cold and the water pressure was shit, but after a couple of seconds of jumping up and down under the spray, Mark forced himself not to care. He had taken cold showers for a year of his life, he would survive another one. 

He stole Taeyong’s ridiculously expensive shampoo before lathering his body with body wash. His breath caught in his throat when he looked down at himself. 

There were bruises on his waist, finger-shaped marks on both sides of his torso. Mark swallowed. He stared at the bruises, uncaring of the soap that was running into his eyes. With a pounding heart, he reached out and pressed his fingers into the bruises, hugging himself. They aligned perfectly. 

Where Mark had been holding his breath, the air rushed out of his lungs all at once. He took the shower head off it’s fixture and hurried to rinse the shampoo out of his hair, wash the rest of the soap off his body. Once he was clean, he stepped out of the shower. There was a pile of perfectly folded towels underneath the bathroom sink and Mark wrapped one of them around his hips before he got to brushing his teeth. 

A short look in the mirror reassured him that he looked about as tired as he felt and so he avoided looking up until he had left the bathroom and returned to his room. This time, he took care to shut his bedroom door properly before he let his towel fall and got to dressing himself. Once he was clothed and ready, he contemplated sneaking out of the window if only to escape Taeyong and his subtle unsubtle lusting, but he knew there was breakfast waiting for him downstairs. 

To his surprise, the kitchen was empty when Mark walked into the room. There was no sight of Taeyong and the house was quiet. 

“Oh, hey! Mark, right?” Mark nearly jumped a foot into the air when Johnny’s voice piped up behind him.

Once he had rearranged his facial features, Mark turned around, nodding. “Uh, yeah. Hi.” 

Johnny smiled at him. It didn’t reach his eyes, but Mark didn’t hold that against him. If Mark looked tired, Johnny looked dead on his feet. The older man was holding a wrench in one hand and a grease-stained kitchen towel in the other. Mark watched him as he walked over to the kitchen sink.

“Your brother let me in. He had to leave for work already, but he told me to ‘make sure Mark eats his breakfast and doesn’t forget to pack his lunch.” Johnny furrowed his brows, clearly trying to recall Taeyong’s exact wording. “‘He won’t be able to think on an empty stomach and those school lunches are no good.’ And then some more about the iron content of broccoli that I forgot. Anyways, your pancakes are in the microwave.” 

Johnny shot him another smile, this time underlined with the universal parental threat to _eat your wheaties, child_ before he turned towards the sink. Mark was kind of impressed as Johnny managed to squeeze his burly upper body through the cabinet doors and underneath the kitchen sink. 

Stepping over the man’s long legs, Mark walked over to the microwave and turned the timer before hoisting himself up on the kitchen counter. Out of boredom, he lifted the kitchen drawer closest to him. It was the knife drawer and the sight of Taeyong’s old Wüsthof knives was enough to make Mark slam the drawer back shut. Over the humming of the microwave, Mark could hear Johnny clank away underneath the sink. From time to time, the older man would mumble to himself and Mark tried hard not to listen. 

His attention was caught when there was movement out of the corner of his eyes and Mark turned his head to find that it hadn’t been movement at all, but light. It was the screen of Johnny’s phone, lying on the kitchen table. It lit up repeatedly as a new message came in. Mark swallowed and as quietly as possible, he slid off the kitchen counter. 

It was wrong to look, he knew that, but Johnny’s lockscreen was a picture of his son and Mark felt himself drawn in like a moth to flame. He didn’t get to see much of Donghyuck’s face, which was wearing the same expression—the one that lay somewhere between annoyance and amusement—that Mark recognised from all the pictures that Taeyong had taken of him when Mark hadn’t wanted to be photographed, before Donghyuck’s was covered up by the notification banner. 

Mark knew that it was even more wrong to read, but he couldn’t help himself. The latest message was a text from a man named Doyoung (Sheriff Kim, Mark’s brain supplied) informing Johnny that there was nothing new to inform him about. Mark swallowed the disappointment he felt about that and moved on to the next text, an automated message from his weather app. Below that were a slew of unopened messages from an unknown number. Mark might have turned away as that was definitely none of his business, but then his eyes caught onto Donghyuck’s name in one of the messages. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Mark cast a glance at Johnny’s legs, the sound of metal against metal accompanying the mumbling coming from underneath the kitchen sink, before he pressed his finger against the screen and scrolled up. Because the phone was locked, the screen only showed previews of the messages Johnny had received, but that was enough. Mark read from the bottom up: 

Unknown Number [fri, 6.55pm] 13 Missed Calls 

Unknown Number [fri, 7.01pm] Pick up.

Unknown Number [sat, 11.27am] Call me when you’re free. 

Unknown Number [sun, 10.53am] Very mature, John. This isn’t going to change anything, you know. You ignoring me won’t...

Unknown Number [sun, 10.54am] You CAN’T just ignore me, John. 

Unknown Number [sun, 10.55am] Did you get the letter I sent you? Did you give it to Donghyuck?

Unknown Number [sun, 11.49] 2 Missed Calls 

Unknown Number [sun, 11.57am] Pick up, John. You have to, eventually. 

Unknown Number [sun, 12.00pm] You can’t keep this from him, John. I know you think I have no right to see him… 

Unknown Number [sun, 12.01pm] He’ll be of age soon, then you won’t be able to hide him from me anyways. It’s...

Unknown Number [sun, 12.03pm] I know you hate me, but this is not your decision to make, John. It’s Donghyuck’s. If he...

Unknown Number [sun, 12.04pm] He’s my son, too.

Unknown Number [sun, 1.27pm] My lawyer will be in contact. 

It was the ding of the microwave that made Mark jump. Another nervous glance at Johnny’s legs reassured him that the older man hadn’t moved from his spot underneath the sink. Mark made sure to scroll back up on the messages until he had reached the preview of Doyoung’s text before he skipped over to the microwave. 

His mind was racing with what he had just read, but he focussed on getting the plate out of the microwave in one piece first. The pancakes were beyond hot when he shoved the first of them into his mouth, but Mark forced himself to chew and swallow anyways. 

He had never heard anyone mention Donghyuck’s mother, but the texts were proof that she existed. Even if that seemed to be something that Johnny wanted to keep from his son. Mark was wondering whether that was something he could ask Jaemin and Jeno about when there was the telltale sound of metal dropping to the floor and a moment later, Johnny was re-emerging from the sink cabinet. Mark tried hard to look busy with his food as he watched Johnny get to his feet from the corner of his eye. Johnny took the time to wipe his grease-stained fingers on the towel stuffed into his back pocket before he turned on the faucet. A brilliant smile made its way onto his face when water gushed out of the faucet and Mark couldn’t help but notice that it was heart-shaped. 

“Uhm, Mr S-Johnny?” Johnny looked at him expectantly and Mark swallowed down the rest of his pancakes, gesturing vaguely at the kitchen table. “You got a text, I think.” 

Mark watched Johnny’s eyes grow wide before he dropped the towel in his hands and hurried over to the kitchen table. His shoulders drew up as he picked up his phone, tension making every of his muscles bulge as he unlocked the screen with shaking fingers. Mark sat the plate down on the counter beside him. He averted his eyes the moment the hopeful expression in Johnny’s eyes vanished, the same, bitter disappointment that Mark had felt earlier taking its place.  

Mark watched Johnny stare at the ceiling for a moment before the older man unlocked his phone and answered Doyoung’s message with a short _ok._ The rest of the notificiations, he deleted. Mark excused himself from the kitchen and pretended not to hear the undignified sob that escaped Johnny as soon as he thought Mark was gone. 

*

Mark peered into Mr Nakamoto’s classroom through the window in the door. He could see Mr Nakamoto sit at his desk, typing away at his laptop. Mark shifted his weight to catch a glimpse of the rest of the classroom. As soon as he was sure that there was no one else inside, he pushed open the door and entered. 

Mr Nakamoto looked up when he heard the door open, shooting Mark a broad smile. “Oh, hi Mark!” 

“Hi, Mr Nakamoto.” Mark forced the corners of his mouth to turn upwards. He didn’t want his teacher to feel uncomfortable, not yet. “Is it okay if I sit?” 

“Of course, Mark.” Mr Nakamoto gestured towards the seat right in front of his desk. Once Mark had taken a seat, he closed his laptop and folded his hands on top of the cover. “How can I help you?” 

Mark glanced at the clock above the blackboard. He didn’t have much time before the next lesson would begin and other students would come trickling in. 

“I wanted to talk to you, Sir, if that’s okay?” 

“Sure.” Mr Nakamoto’s smile was dazzling as he leaned forward. “What do you want to talk about?” 

Mark inhaled slowly. “Donghyuck Seo.” 

He watched with hawk eyes how Mr Nakamoto reacted to that. A plethora of emotion flashed in the teacher’s eyes. 

“Dongyhuck Seo? Yes, of course I know him. In a town like this, everyone knows everyone really.” Mr Nakamoto laughed, but it sounded hollow, even to Mark’s ears. “Why are you asking?” 

Mark shrugged, a practised motion. He had expected that question. “Everybody is talking about him and I’m new so I don’t really what’s going on.” Mark shook his hair into his eyes, looked up through his lashes in a display of teenage embarrassment that he hadn’t felt in ages. “I wasn’t sure who to ask, but I noticed your bracelet.” Mark let his gaze trail down to Mr Nakamoto’s wrist. “I saw his friends with the same one, so I thought you might know him well?” 

“Huh, my bracelet?” Mr Nakamoto followed Mark’s gaze down to his wrist. “Oh! Yes, Donghyuck gave it to me after the premiere of our summer musical last semester. He’s one of my theatre kids, you must know.” 

Mark nodded. He did know. 

Mr Nakamoto’s expression softened as he pushed up his sleeve, uncovering the bracelet. “I can’t remember how many times I had to reprimand him in my class because he would make these under the table. He’s quite the rebellious one, Donghyuck, but brilliantly smart. You would like him.” 

For a moment, Mark forgot himself. “You really think so?” 

Mr Nakamoto smiled. “Of course. Everybody likes our dear Donghyuck.” 

Mark barely had had time to process that when Mr Nakamoto leaned back in his chair. “Though, I must say if you want to know more about him, you might have to ask one of his friends. There’s really not much I can tell you. I’m only his teacher, after all.”

Mark smiled, knew that it didn’t reach his eyes. “Right.” 

Mr Nakamoto nodded. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Mark?” 

 _Everything,_ Mark thought, _I want to know everything you’re hiding_. But he knew that he wouldn’t get any more information out of his teacher without raising suspicion, so he shook his head and picked his backpack up from the floor. He was already halfway at the door when he turned around one last time. 

“Hey, Mr Nakamoto?” 

The teacher looked up at him with a smile. “Yes, Mark?” 

“Do you really know all of _The Tempest_ off the top of your head?” 

Mr Nakamoto’s smile broadened. _“Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not,”_ he recited. _“Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, that, if I then had waked after long sleep, will make me sleep again.”_

Mark bowed his head before he turned towards the door. 

_“And then, in dreaming, the clouds methought would open, and show riches to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.”_

*

Mark had barely made it a step out of his History classroom when he was caught by the arm. His first instinct was to punch whoever had come for him, but he held back when he saw who it was.

“Jeno.” Mark forced his breathing to return to its normal rate. “What’s up?” 

He calmed down when he saw that Jeno was smiling, his eyes shining with excitement. “We’re eating in town, today. Are you coming with?” 

Mark sighed. “I would but I still don’t have a bike, sorry.” 

Jeno shook his head, dragging him away from the throng of students eager to get to the lunch hall and towards the doors instead. “Don’t worry about that. Yangyang will lend you his. I already asked him for the keys.” 

Dumbfounded, Mark took the keys Jeno procured from the pocket of his varsity jacket. “Thank you.” 

Jeno shrugged. “Everybody eats,” he said seriously. 

Jaemin was already there when they got to the bike racks in front of the gym hall. He looked worse for wear, a little like Johnny, a lot like Mark himself, but at least he was smiling. Mark figured that the prospect of evading the cafeteria food instilled hope even in the most dire of situations. 

Jaemin’s expression turned inquisitive when he saw Mark unlock Yangyang’s bike. “Do you even know how to use that?”

Mark raised an eyebrow at him. “What? You think because I’m a city boy I don’t know how to ride a bike?” 

Jaemin grinned at him. “Yeah.” 

Mark swung his leg over Yangyang’s bike and pushed himself off. He picked up speed before taking his hands off the handle bars and using them to flip Jaemin off. He could hear Jeno laugh behind him. Jaemin joined in a moment later before he overtook Mark to lead the way. 

“Not bad, City Boy,” he told Mark as he passed him and Mark grinned. 

Yangyang’s bike had no coaster brake so Mark entertained himself by backpedalling as they rolled down the hill. There was little traffic at this time of the day and Jaemin took full advantage of that, which meant Mark and Jeno were following suit. Mark felt his adrenaline levels rise as they raced each other into town, laughter bubbling up inside his chest as he picked up speed with every pedal kick. 

He almost mourned it when Jeno, in the front at last, signalled them to come to a halt. They parked their bikes on a rack opposite of the restaurant. Mark was so busy pushing his windswept hair out of his eyes that he didn’t realise where they were going until they had already crossed the street. Jaemin pulled open the door to the diner and Mark faltered in his step. 

“Is everything okay?” Jeno asked when he realised Mark had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. 

Mark forced his gaze down from the neon sign above the door and smiled at his friend. “No, everything’s fine.” 

Jeno smiled back before motioning towards the inside of the restaurant and Mark hurried to follow after Jaemin, who was already inside. The air inside the diner was heavy with the smell of coffee and burger grease and Mark felt his stomach growl with hunger despite the unease in his chest.  

Jaemin lead them straight to a booth by the windows and Mark allowed himself to sink into the plastic cushioning. He had barely sat down when a waiter popped up at their table. _Jungwoo,_ the name tag on his uniform read. 

“Hey, guys, welcome to Moon’s Diner.” His smile was bright as he handed them their menus. “Do you already know what you want to drink?” 

“Hey, Jungwoo,” Jaemin waved at the waiter who winked back, “is Taeil in?” 

Jungwoo nodded. “Yeah, he’s in the kitchen with our new cook.” 

“New cook?” Jeno asked, craning his neck to peer at the kitchen window. “Taeil hired someone new?” 

Mark felt his heart rate spike. “I’ll have a coke, please.” His order came out a tad too loudly, but Jungwoo only smiled at him.

He wrote it down before he turned towards Jeno. “Yes, he started this week. Don’t fear for your burgers, though, he’s really good. I heard he’s got some fancy culinary school diploma.” Jungwoo leaned forward and Mark bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. “Frankly, I don’t know what he’s doing here when he’s got a qualification like that, but Taeil insists that he makes a good addition to the team and he’s right, so I’m not complaining. Also he’s so pretty, seriously, you need to see him. My knees wobble every time I have to give him a ticket. If he was a waiter instead, I’d be out of a job.” 

Jungwoo’s laugh was melodic and Mark squeezed his eyes shut. He was thankful when Jeno and Jaemin finally ordered their drinks and Jungwoo disappeared. He didn’t know how long he spent breathing in even intervals before a hand came down on his shoulder. Mark opened his eyes and was met with Jeno’s concerned gaze. 

“Mark? You okay?” 

Mark nodded. He uncurled his fists under the table. “I’m fine.”

“Oh my god,” Jaemin said and they turned their heads to where he was looking. 

Mark didn’t have to guess what he was looking at. It was impossible to _not_ see Taeyong with his pink hair bright like a neon sign and his hands gesturing in the air as he talked to the short, stocky man polishing cups behind the counter. Mark only recognised him vaguely, had last seen him when he had been eleven or twelve, but he recognised Taeil. The _Boss_ written on his name tag helped. 

 _“That’s_ the new cook?” Jaemin’s voice had gained a whole octave as he turned back around to look at Mark and Jeno.

“Jungwoo wasn’t joking,” Jeno said absentmindedly, his eyes lingering on Taeyong. 

Jaemin’s gaze roamed their table before he picked up his menu. “Do you think he’ll come talk us if I sent back my food?” 

“No.” Mark forced his jaw to unclench when both of his friends looked at him. “No, you will do no such thing, Jaemin. And you, Jeno, stop staring at him. He’s not a zoo animal.” 

“Oh, you’re right.” Jeno blushed brightly as he turned back in his seat so he was sitting with his back to the kitchen again. “Sorry.” 

“Wait, are you actually upset? Do you know him?” Jaemin asked curiously.

Mark exhaled through his nose before he nodded. “I do.”

“Really?” Jaemin dropped his menu in excitement. “Do you know his name?” 

“His name is Taeyong.” Mark allowed himself a glance at the kitchen window where, thankfully, Taeyong had disappeared from sight. “He’s my brother.” 

“Oh, shit.” Jaemin’s eyes widened in shock. 

Mark shrugged, picking up his menu. He was stopped when Jaemin took his hands. 

“No, Mark, I’m really sorry. Listen, I know how shitty it is to have a hot older brother, okay?” Jaemin shot him a tentative smile. “People did the same to me with Jaehyun all the time when he was still in school. One time, a girl in my class came up to me and asked for my brother’s number. I told her he’s five years older and not interested and even then she wouldn’t relent. So I know, all right? I’m sorry.”  

Mark took a deep breath before he nodded. “It’s okay.” 

Jaemin smiled. He let go of Mark’s hands and laughed when the first tunes of Britney Spears’ _Toxic_ began to blare from his jacket pocket. “Speak of the devil, that’s my brother calling.” He slid out of the booth. “I’ll be right back.” 

Jeno waited until Jaemin had left their booth before he turned towards Mark, his eyes wide with guilt. “Sorry, Mark.” 

Mark waved him off. “It’s really okay.” He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. “I’m used to it.” 

Jeno frowned at that, but then Jungwoo reappeared at their table with their drinks and they focussed on ordering instead. 

“Special fries and the black bean burger,” Jeno ordered for Jaemin when Jungwoo asked them where their friend had gone. 

With another bright smile, the waiter thanked them before leaving their table. Jaemin returned shortly after. 

“Everything all right?” Mark asked, hoping for any news about Donghyuck. 

He was disappointed when Jaemin waved him off. “Yeah, Jaehyun just asked where we are. Looks like Sheriff Kim and him are coming to join us for lunch.” 

Mark swallowed. He didn’t know how well it would go over with Taeyong if he saw Mark eating lunch with police officers, but he knew that Taeyong wouldn’t make a scene at work. So he forced himself to relax and listen to the conversation Jeno and Jaemin were having. 

“I’m stoked.” Jeno grinned as he settled further in his seat. “This mean I don’t have to pay for my food.” 

Jaemin scoffed at him. “This is so unfair. The Sheriff doesn’t even pay for Jaehyun’s lunch, yet you barely have to do so much as look at the menu and he’s already whipping out his wallet.” 

“Uncle Doyoung likes me the most,” Jeno shrugged. “He’d like you too, but you’re the devil”. 

“That’s not true! He likes me!” 

“Is he actually your uncle?” Mark asked Jeno. 

Jaemin laughed at that. “Nah, though he might as well be. He’s not related to either of us, but he’s got a huge soft spot for Jeno. He used to babysit him as a kid and me and Donghyuck by extension, but he likes Jeno so much more.” 

“Because you and Hyuck always wreaked havoc at his house!” 

“You once painted a flower on his wall!” 

“We were out of colouring paper!” 

“Food,” Mark interrupted and it was almost comical how fast both Jaemin and Jeno turned in their seats, twin smiles spreading over their faces as Jungwoo approached their table, his arms laden with plates. 

Mark’s stomach growled at the smell of salt and grease and he couldn’t wait to dig in. While Jungwoo set down their plates, Mark’s attention was caught by the bell above the door ringing. Sheriff Kim and Officer Jung entered the diner talking amongst themselves and Mark couldn’t help but glance at the direction of the kitchen window. He was thankful that Taeyong was nowhere in sight. 

“Your brother is here,” he told Jaemin, who stopped stuffing his face long enough to wave his brother over. 

They got up to make room for the policemen and Mark couldn’t help the sense of discomfort he felt, but he was prepared to be ignored for the time being. That was, until the policemen arrived at their table and Jaehyun went straight for him. 

“You’re Mark?” 

Mark furrowed his brows. He didn’t like the lack of emotion on the officer’s face. “Yeah?” 

Officer Jung nodded. “Do you mind coming outside with me for a minute?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

Time seemed to stretch and play in fast forward at the same time. Out of the corner of his eye, Mark saw Sheriff Kim pull Jeno and Jaemin in the direction of the next table, away from him. Mark felt his heart sink.

“Do you mind coming outside with me for a minute?” Officer Jung repeated. 

Where Mark’s stomach had been seized by something like dread, he felt laughter bubble up in his throat. His mirth must have been visible on his face, because Officer Jung’s expression darkened. 

“No.” Mark shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“It wasn’t a question, Mark. Come outside with me.” Officer Jung took a step closer. More quietly, he added, “You don’t want to do this in here, Mark.” 

“I don’t know,” Mark gave back, not bothering to control his volume. He felt the giddy feeling spread from his chest all throughout his limbs. Hysteria. “I quite like it in here. I don’t think I want to come with you.” 

He took a step backwards when he saw Officer Jung reach for his belt. It was in vain. The plates on their table clattered when Mark’s upper body hit the table top. Pain surged up his arms as they were brought together behind his back. With his face pressed against the table top, he watched a drop of condensation run down the glass of his coke. A part of him mourned the fact that he wouldn’t get to drink it now. A part of him feared that he wouldn’t get to drink coke for a long time from now on. 

“Mark Lee,” Officer Jung announced loudly, “you’re under arrest on suspicion of the abduction and murder of Donghyuck Seo.” 

“Hey!”

Mark sighed when he heard Taeyong’s voice cut through murmur that had risen. Somewhere to his left, he could hear Jeno let out a “What?!” 

“You have the right to remain silent,” Officer Jung continued. 

“Hey, let him go!”

Mark squeezed his eyes shut as cold metal wrapped around his wrist. He could feel panic rise in his chest at the feeling of being shackled, but he could let none of it show on his face. Taeyong was here.

“Let go of him! He didn’t do anything! Mark!”

“If you do say anything, what you say can be used against you in a court of law.” Officer Jung pulled him up by the shoulder so he could maneuver Mark to walk in front of him towards the entrance. Mark felt two dozen pairs of eyes bore into his skull, but there was only one he cared about. 

“Mark, don’t say anything! They have no right to detain you—get your hands off of me, Sheriff—you hear me, Mark? Don’t say anything!” 

Mark smiled when he pried his eyes open to find Taeyong in his line of vision, struggling to get to him as he was held back around the waist by Sheriff Kim. 

“You have the right to consult with a lawyer and have that lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you if you so desire. Did you understand that?” 

Mark’s chest constricted from the panic and the strain to hold it in.

Pressure against the spot where his shoulder blades met. “Mr Lee, did you understand that?” 

“I understand.” Mark continued to smile at Taeyong even as his vision blurred.

 _I’m sorry,_ he wanted to say as Officer Jung dragged him out of the diner. _I’m sorry I broke my promise,_ he wanted to say as he was shoved into the backseat of the police cruiser. _I’m sorry I’m such a terrible brother,_ he wanted to yell as the door was thrown shut in his face. 

Through the back window, he could see Taeyong elbow Sheriff Kim into the stomach. The Sheriff tried to catch him but Taeyong was too quick on his feet and bolted out of the diner, the Sheriff hot on his heels. Inside the diner, Mark could see Jeno and Jaemin still standing next to their booth, their mouths agape and Jeno’s eyes widened in shock while tears were collecting in Jaemin’s. 

Mark smiled. A moment later, Taeyong’s face appeared next to his window but this time he was held back not by Sheriff Kim but by Taeil. Mark was thankful for that. Taeyong would need a friend. The passenger door opened and Sheriff Kim fell into the seat with a curse. Officer Jung didn’t hesitate to pull away from the curb as soon as the Sheriff had thrown the car door shut behind himself. 

Sheriff Kim met Mark’s eyes in the rearview mirror and his eyes were hard as he sized him up. “You’re in big trouble, son.” 

Mark closed his eyes. Pastel colours streaked the space behind his eyelids. He knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Kitchen Beat.  
>   
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	6. Kitchen Beat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably my favourite so far and I hope you enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing. (Also she came out quite long, I hope that's okay too.)

Mark remembered it well, the day he had come home to find the tourism pamphlet for Hell, Oregon on the living room table. 

“No fucking way,” he had spit into Taeyong’s face, crumpling up the paper while Taeyong had watched on with a guilty look on his face. The guilty expression hadn’t lasted long during their subsequent shouting match and in the end, Mark had had to count his losses.

“I have a friend there,” Taeyong had murmured into his hair when they had cuddled on the couch afterwards. “Do you remember our old neighbour Taeil? He runs a diner there and he’s willing to take me on as a sous-chef.” 

Mark hadn’t pointed out that that was ridiculous, that Taeyong had graduated with honours from New York’s finest culinary school. That he was supposed to be the head chef of his _own_ restaurant right here in the city instead of some three-thousand soul town in the middle of nowhere. But Mark had said nothing. He hadn’t had the right to. There were a lot of things the both of them were supposed to be and Mark had fallen way farther behind that ideal than Taeyong ever could have done. Even if he had done it for Taeyong. 

“I don’t want to move there. The place is called _Hell_ , Yong, how good can it be there?” 

“Taeil says it’s lovely.” Taeyong’s lips had quirked up at the mention of his friend, even if his smile had faded too fast. “It will be good for us to get out of the city.”

Mark had recalled one of his breathing exercises then, letting all the air escape from his lungs before he had breathed in to the count of four, seven, eight. “Do I have to go to school there?” 

“I enrolled you this morning. You’re redoing senior year and will get your diploma like everybody else.”

Mark had tried hard not to scowl. He had hoped for online classes, which was what Yukhei’s parents had enrolled him in once his house arrest had commenced. “I’ll be a year older than everyone else.”

“If you don’t tell anyone you’re a year older than your peers, no one will know. Your records are sealed, Mark. To everyone else, you took a long vacation last year.” 

Four, seven, eight. Mark had exhaled. “You’re really moving us to Hell?”

“I’m really moving us to Hell.” 

Mark had tried to accept Taeyong’s decision afterwards. A new chance, Taeyong had kept repeating during the weeks that followed. Mark couldn’t help but smile at the irony of it all as he stared down at his hands, the metal of the handcuffs clinking together as he rested them on the table in front of him.

It had been hours since they had lead him into the interrogation room. Jaehyun—or rather Officer Jung, Mark thought bitterly—had come in twice, once to offer him a bathroom break and another time to offer him his phone call. Mark had declined every time. He didn’t need to pee and there was no one he could have called. All he could say was “I’m not saying anything until my lawyer gets here.” 

Sheriff Kim had been more than unamused at this response, but Mark knew better than to open his mouth. He still had hours to go until help would come and so he tried to savour every minute that he got to spend alone. 

Shifting on the uncomfortable plastic chair beneath him, Mark bedded his head on his arms and focussed on the ticking of the clock above the mirror that spanned the wall to his left. Mark suspected that the policemen might be watching him right this moment, but he tried not to think about that. Instead, he forced his muscles to relax. 

Counting to four, seven and eight, he imagined black oil enveloping him, seeping into his skull until his head was filled. There was one more thing he could do, _needed_ to do. The clock on the wall ticked. He breathed in and out. He sunk. 

*

In his dream, Mark found himself lying on cold stone. Sharp winds tugged at his clothes, blowing his hair into his face as he sat up. His hand came back wet when he pushed it out of his eyes. Rain, he realised after a moment, looking up at the darkened sky before he looked around. 

His heart sank as he realised that his surroundings had changed. This was not his dreamscape. There were no trees surrounding him to give him cover. Instead, he seemed to be on top of a cliff. The air was heavy with the smell of ozone and salt instead of petrichor and he could hear waves crashing even over the howling of the storm. His shoes slid over stone instead of earth as he pulled himself to his feet. The uneasiness in his chest turned into fear when he realised what that might mean. 

“Haechan!” he called out, frantically searching for a glimpse of neon orange in his vision. “Haechan!” 

He stumbled forward, pushing against the winds whipping around him. He hoped they would carry his voice. “Haechan!” 

Mark squeezed his eyes close, willing himself to be where the other boy was, willing the storm around him to cease so he could see. When he opened his eyes, no such thing had happened but there was a touch to his shoulder and when Mark turned around, Haechan was standing behind him. 

Mark bridged the distance between them in a rush. “Haechan!” 

The other boy smiled at him, close-mouthed and with chapped lips, before he walked around Mark. His hair was tousled by the wind as he braved the storm, the loose fabric of his sweatshirt raising from his body before it was pressed to his skin again. Mark hurried to follow him to the cliff’s edge. 

They looked down together and Mark took Haechan’s arm. “You have to help me. You have to tell me about the real you, Haechan, about Donghyuck. Anything you know, if you know it, I need to know it.” 

Haechan closed his eyes, his arm limp in Mark’s grasp. “You’re running out of time.” 

Mark nodded. “I am, this is why I need your help.”

“I don’t know, Dream.” When Haechan opened his eyes, they had gained an unnatural shine. He shook his head as he pulled his arm from Mark’s grip. “I don’t _know.”_

Mark gritted his teeth. It was not an answer he could accept. Not anymore. “I’m in deep trouble, Haechan, I don’t know whether they’re going to let me go. I don’t know whether I can find you in time. I don’t know whether I can still save you if you can’t tell me where you are!” 

Mark regretted his harsh words the moment Haechan flinched away from him. Haechan had been his calm, his oasis in the depth of his dreams. He didn’t deserve this. 

“I’m sorry.” Mark felt himself choke up. “Fuck, I’m so sorry!”

Haechan watched him for a moment before he took a step forward and then another one until they were chest to chest. His breath hit Mark’s face and Mark’s eyes fluttered close when Haechan cupped his face to bring their foreheads together. 

“I’m sorry,” Mark whispered. He knew that Haechan would hear him, despite the storm and the waves crashing below. Haechan’s nose brushed his when he shook his head and Mark exhaled.

“You’re angry again,” he said and this time it came out teasingly, like an old joke shared between them. 

Mark inhaled. “I’m angry because I failed you.” 

“You didn’t fail me.” Haechan’s tone was uncharacteristically gentle, sweet in a way that Mark felt undeserving of. He didn’t miss the wet tracks on Haechan’s cheeks and he wanted to believe that it was the rain. “Thank you for being with me, Dream. If you’re the last person I get to spend time with, then that’s okay with me.” 

Mark shook his head at the implication. “It’s not over yet,” he said. “I can—I will get out and then I’ll come for you. I won’t stop until I’ve found you.” 

Haechan smiled at him and Mark wanted to cry at the sight of it, at the way Haechan seemed to burn bright even in the middle of a storm, even as he neared his end. He watched with a beating heart as Haechan leaned in. Cold fingertips caressed his cheek and then chapped lips pressed against his, leaving the taste of salt behind. 

“I will wait for you,” Haechan promised. 

He reached out and at first Mark thought he was reaching for him, but then Mark realised Haechan was reaching upwards, stretching his arm towards the sky as far as it would go. A jubilant smile lit up his face, the eclipse in his eyes turning into black and Mark was not fast enough to hold onto him before Haechan let himself fall backwards. 

Mark rushed forward but by the time he made it to the cliff’s edge, Haechan had disappeared into the darkness below. There was no sound that came over Mark’s lips and this time the pain he felt was animalistic. This was not his dreamscape. He could not control the weather and he could not turn the tide. The only thing he could do was scream as the chasm in his chest tore apart his soul. 

The waves below crashed against the cliff, so far below that Mark couldn’t make them out and it was an easy decision. It had been a long time since his dreams had been his own and whatever happened to him from now on, they would never be his own again. Not fully. 

There was a rumbling in his chest that matched the thunder rolling over him. 

“Fuck you,” he directed at the sky. 

He received a stroke of lightning in return. Just like the thunder, he would follow. There was no fear within him as he rolled himself off the edge of the cliff and began to fall. After all, he was still just a boy chasing after the strange boy from his even stranger dream. 

*

Mark jolted awake when there was a loud bang outside the interrogation room. The noise was followed by the muffled sound of aggravated voices and then another bang, this time against his door. 

Through the thin metal, Mark could make out what the person beyond the door was shouting, “Listen, Officer, I don’t care! I did not just put myself and this twelve-thousand-dollar suit into a plane for six hours and then took _public_ transport to get to this mosquito shit on the map for you to tell me visitation hours are over. I have a right to speak to my client and you better uphold it or I swear to god I will sue this police station for every tax-payer penny you have.” 

There was the sliding noise of the door being unlocked and then the door opened. Mark raised his head to see Officer Jung trying to enter first, but he was promptly elbowed out of the way. 

“Mark!”  

Mark tried to get up but was promptly pulled back down by the chain connecting his handcuffs to the table. It didn’t matter as in the next moment, he was enveloped by short, strong arms and the smell of expensive cologne. Mark’s knees nearly yielded at the sense of familiarity that came over him. 

“Ten,” he sobbed out. 

“"Hey, kiddo.” Ten’s eyes were nothing but kind when he pulled away to look at Mark, tugging on the longer strands of his fringe. “You know if you wanted me to visit you could have just texted, right? You didn't have to get yourself arrested."

Mark barked out a laugh, though it came out more like a sob, and Ten smiled at him. His expression soured when he sized Mark up, his eyes bulging when his gaze fell to Mark’s hands. He whirled around and Mark knew there was no kindness left on his face when Ten jabbed a finger at Officer Jung. “You didn’t uncuff him when you brought him in here?” 

“It’s protocol,” Officer Jung mumbled, shrinking under the glare Ten shot him. 

Ten scoffed. “He’s eighteen years-old, he’s practically a child. A child I helped raise, might I add. Uncuff him right now.” 

Officer Jung made a move to step forward, but he was held back when Sheriff Kim appeared in the door. He sent the other policeman to get Mark’s file before he turned towards Ten. 

“You’re the lawyer, I assume?” 

At the harsh tone in Sheriff Kim’s voice, Ten straightened out his back, pulled himself to his full height. “That I am. Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, but you can call me Ten.” 

Sheriff Kim blinked before his expression hardened. “Right, _Ten_ , as you’re probably aware, your client has an aggravated assault charge on his record. So _no,_ Mr Leechaiyapornkul, I’m not going to uncuff him. Not until I’m not convinced that he doesn’t pose a threat to everyone in this precinct including _you,_ so I suggest you consult with your client now that we may proceed with the interrogation.” 

With that, Sheriff Kim closed the door behind him, the lock sliding into place and Mark fell back onto his seat. 

“Bitch,” Ten hissed under his breath before he turned around, grabbing Mark’s face by the cheeks. “Are you all right?” 

Mark nodded. His voice came out more hoarse than he would have liked to. “I’m fine.” 

Ten smiled at him. “I’ll let that lie slide, but it better be the last time you’re dishonest with me in this room. Now what the hell happened?” 

Mark caught himself grinning at Ten’s involuntary pun, but the smile died on his lips quickly. He felt a headache coming on. 

“They’re saying I killed someone.” Mark inhaled against the flashes of pastel colours in his vision, the phantom feeling of chapped lips against his own. ”Another boy.” 

“And, did you do it?” 

“Ten!” 

Ten didn’t so much as blink as he pulled a chair from the stack in the corner and sat down perpendicular to Mark. “No, Mark, give me the truth. I want to hear nothing else right now. The first thing I did when I got here was drive your brother to the hospital so they could sedate him because he had a full-blown panic attack in Taeil’s back room. Taeyong’s a mess because of _this_ mess, so I don’t want to hear you whine or get angry right now. I want you to tell me what happened that your brother called me in tears to get you out of jail, _again._ So, yes, Mark, I’m asking you: did you kill that boy?” 

Mark shook his head. “No.” 

Ten searched his eyes for the honesty in them before he sagged in his chair. 

“Good,” he lifted his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose as he exhaled, “that’s good. If you didn’t do it, they can’t have any hard evidence, which means they’re operating on hints alone. Do you know why they detained you?”

Mark shook his head again. “I was eating lunch with my friends when they came in and arrested me.”

Ten scrunched up his nose, humming before he shook his head. “There must be something linking you to the murder, then.” 

“We don’t know whether Donghyuck’s dead yet.” His words came out way more venomous than Mark had intended and he swallowed when Ten raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean, he’s missing. The boy. He’s been missing for days, but no one has found him yet, so it’s not certain that he’s dead.” 

Ten continued to stare at him. 

“His name is Donghyuck.” 

“Okay.” Ten licked his lips before he opened the suitcase he had brought with him. He took out a notepad and the expensive ink pen Taeyong had given him for his birthday at the beginning of the year. “Is that all that you know?” 

Mark nodded. 

“Okay,” Ten repeated and got up. He knocked on the door twice before resuming his seat. 

Sheriff Kim and Officer Jung came in a moment later. They sat down opposite of Mark at the table and Mark pressed his lips shut. He didn’t plan on opening them any time soon. There was a moment of prolonged silence between all of them before Ten cleared his throat.

“Right, okay, now that I’m here, could you lay out to me what you’re accusing my client of?” 

Mark could see Sheriff Kim’s nostrils flare as he opened the folder he had brought and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to Ten. His eyes met Mark’s as he recited, “We’ve arrested Mr Lee on suspicion of the abduction and murder of Donghyuck Seo.” 

“‘...on the suspicion’, mhm?” Ten studied the paper for a moment before dropping it on the table. “Well, I’m going to have to be honest with you here and tell you to your face that that’s bullshit. Mark doesn’t even know this boy and you’re accusing him of being responsible for his disappearance? What on earth makes you think he has anything to do with this?” 

Officer Jung cleared his throat. “We received an anonymous tip.” 

Mark could see Ten hold back a snort. “An anonymous tip? Are you serious?” 

Sheriff Kim frowned before he opened Mark’s folder for good. “Today at 12.08 p.m. a call reached this precinct that accused Mr Lee of the very same charges we have taken him into custody for. The caller told us that he had witnessed how Mr Lee lured Donghyuck into his car the same night he disappeared and then drove off with him after,” Sheriff Kim squinted down at the folder, “‘...pressing a white cloth to his mouth.’”

Mark felt his jaw drop at the accusation. Anger surged in his chest at the blatant lie, but before he could open his mouth, Ten’s hand came down on his knee under the table. Like a pinched balloon, Mark deflated while Ten pushed up his glasses, his expression melting into one of carefully crafted disdain. 

“I’m sorry, Sheriff, but what you’re describing sounds like an episode of Criminal Minds. I mean, what, did Mark stuff him onto his trunk too? What you’re describing is ridiculous and atrocious. Do you really think a kid like Mark would be capable of that?” 

“Do I think he is capable of that?” Sheriff Kim inhaled through his nose before he picked up another sheet from Mark’s folder. “A year ago, your client got sentenced for aggravated assault because he shattered a man’s hand with a baseball bat, his counsellor at his juvenile detention center diagnosed him with anger management issues and now he’s under suspicion for the abduction and murder of a classmate. I think your client is absolutely capable. The question is whether he admits to what he’s done?” 

Mark felt his heart still when Sheriff Kim’s sharp gaze landed on him. “Do you admit to what you’ve done, Mark?” 

“Don’t say anything, Mark.” Ten’s tone had taken on a sharp edge. “The Sheriff is just trying to goad you. He has nothing.” 

“That’s not true,” Officer Jung spoke up. “We checked back and the timeline matches up.”

Sheriff Kim nodded, shooting his colleague a brief smile before glaring back at Ten. “Mr Lee and his brother arrived at this town the night before Donghyuck disappeared and so far he has failed to provide us with an alibi for Sunday night. At the same time, we have a witness statement that puts him in relation with Donghyuck’s disappearance around the same time.”

“An anonymous witness statement that won’t hold up in court.” Ten corrected him. “Mark, tell the Sheriff what you really did Sunday night.” 

Mark breathed in deeply. “I was asleep in my room. Yong and I unpacked boxes all day, so I passed out early, around eight.” 

“And before that?” Officer Jung asked. 

“Never left the house.” Mark shrugged. “As I said, I was helping my brother unpack. We have a lot of shit, so it took a while to get everything unpacked.” 

Officer Jung averted his gaze and Ten squeezed Mark’s hand under the table. “Is there anyone who can confirm your story?” 

“Taeyong was up way longer than me. He would have noticed if I had left, _which I didn’t._ ” Mark allowed himself to glare at Sheriff Kim this time. “Also, I want to say that there’s a really big flaw in your plan to frame me with that witness statement.” 

Sheriff Kim raised an eyebrow at him while Officer Jung’s eyes widened. “And what would that be, young man?” 

“The witness said that I picked up Donghyuck and knocked him out before driving off with him, right?” 

Sheriff Kim glanced down at the papers in front of him before nodding. 

Mark leaned back in his chair. “Then it’s obvious that they lied.” 

“And why might that be?” 

He didn’t bother concealing his smile. “Because I don’t know how to drive.” 

*

Mark rubbed his wrists as he waited for Ten to fill out his paperwork for him, the bickering between his lawyer and the Sheriff fading into the background as he closed his eyes. He focussed on the pain flaring up at his wrists when he pressed his fingertips into the sore skin. The sting helped clear his mind, helped him focus on what he needed to do now that he was free. 

“Would you like some water?” 

Mark pried his eyes open to find Officer Jung smiling down at him, the expression in his eyes sheepish as he held out a water bottle for Mark. Under different circumstances, Mark would have thrown the water right back into his face, but he was tired now and Officer Jung looked sincerely apologetic. He was only twenty-two, Mark remembered, that was about halfway between himself and Taeyong. 

Mark smiled and took the bottle. “Thanks.” 

Jaehyun nodded, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet as Mark broke the seal on the bottle and took a sip. Mark knew there was something else Jaehyun wanted to say and so he waited, taking the chance to rehydrate. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun blurted out eventually. “I know that’s probably not something you care to hear right now, but Doyoung—I mean Sheriff Kim and I, when we got that call, it was like a heaven-sent after five days of fruitless search. And with your record—”

“My record was sealed.” Mark didn’t manage to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “It was sealed so I _wouldn’t_ be treated like a juvenile delinquent for the rest of my life.”  

“You’re not the only juvenile delinquent in this town.” Dimples appeared on Jaehyun’s cheeks. “But then we’re talking about maybe a reprimand for underage drinking here and there or someone stealing thirty chickens to release them at school.” 

Mark felt a smile pull on the corner of his mouth. “I heard they did it to protest the lack of plant-based options on the school menu.” 

Jaehyun reciprocated his smile, before it quickly turned into something else, something a lot closer to the heartbreak Mark had witnessed in Jaemin’s eyes over the last couple of days. “Donghyuck was—he _is_ quite something. Normally, that doesn’t mash well with towns like these, but he’s special and everybody loves him. He’s also Sheriff Kim’s godson. We just want to find him. I’m sorry you got caught in the crossfire.” 

Mark set his water bottle down on the bench beside him before he shot the young officer a smile. “I understand that. Jaemin, he’s told me a lot about him. I understand that you’re just trying to find him.” Same as me, Mark wanted to add. 

 _Thank you for being with me, Dream. If you’re the last person I get to spend time with, then that’s okay with me._ No, Mark wanted to tell him, that’s not how you’re going to end. _I will wait for you._ Mark wiped his mouth, wiped off the remnants of cold burn on his lips. 

His words seemed to be enough of an absolution for Jaehyun and the police officer nodded. 

The peace between them didn’t last long. 

Before either of them could say anything more, the doors of the precinct flew open. Mark moved to the edge of his bench instinctively while Jaehyun took a step forward. The police officer caught Johnny around the waist before the older man could get to Mark. 

“Where is he?!” Johnny’s gaze was frantic as his eyes zeroed in on Mark and Mark shrunk back. “Where is he, you bastard?!”

Jaehyun was pushed nearly a foot across the floor when Johnny strained against his grip, but for now the police officer stood his ground. 

It didn’t keep Johnny from shouting over his shoulder, “I heard that it was you! You took my son! Where did you take him?! Where—” Johnny paled. The fight seemed to leave him at the same moment that a wretched noise forced its way out of his throat. Jaehyun was just quick enough to catch him when the older man sagged against him, Johnny’s eyes remaining on Mark as they filled with tears. ”Where did you leave his body?” 

“Johnny!” 

For the first time in his life, Mark was glad to see Sheriff Kim appear in his vision. The Sheriff didn’t pay him any attention as he walked over to his friend. He helped Jaehyun carry Johnny over to the plastic seats near the entrance while Johnny kept babbling, “Jaemin called me. He told me it was him. What did he do to Donghyuck? What did he do to my boy?” 

Doyoung crouched down in front of his chair, pulling the other man into a hug while Jaehyun backed away. “It was a mistake, Johnny, it wasn’t Mark. False alarm.” 

The Sheriff’s words did little to console Johnny. “Where is he, Doyoung? He has to be somewhere. I just want my boy back. I-I just want him back.” 

Mark looked up when a hand landed on his shoulder. 

“We should leave,” Ten’s tone was gentle, unmatching the pity in his eyes as he watched the scene in front of them unfold and Mark was quick to rise to his feet. 

The sound of Johnny’s pleading followed him all the way to the car, echoed in his head even after he had strapped himself into the passenger seat. The car Ten had rented was a nice, the soft leather of his seat giving way under his weight and Mark forced himself to focus on the texture beneath his fingertips as he curled his hands into his seat. He thought he might throw up otherwise. A short glance at the dashboard clock told him that he had spent over eight hours at the police station. _Eight hours wasted,_ a high-trilled voice in his mind supplied. 

Mark focussed on breathing for now. 

The drive to his house was quiet. Mark knew that Ten was mulling over the details of his case in his mind and he was happy to close his eyes during the ride. He dozed but never fell asleep and if he did, then he didn’t dream at all. He opened his eyes when Ten shut off the engine and a part of him was glad to see the familiar, chipped paint of the house he had grown familiar with.

“I hope you have a key,” Ten said as they made their way up the front porch steps. 

Mark nodded and procured the key from the wallet in his back pocket. Taeyong would have had his head if Mark hadn’t had it on him at all times. He told Ten as much and Ten laughed, for the first time since he had arrived. Only then did Mark realise how surreal this moment was, that Ten was here with him in Hell instead of New York City. 

“Did you really take a flight the moment Taeyong called you?” 

“Of course,” Ten’s smile didn’t falter as he followed Mark into the kitchen, “and you don’t want to know how much it cost me to fly through check-in. But that doesn’t matter. You and Taeyong are my family and I would do anything for you.” 

Mark felt a good portion of his strength leave him as he let himself fall onto the nearest chair. “I can never thank you enough.” 

“Thank me by not getting arrested a third time.” Ten took the liberty of taking one of Taeyong’s iced coffees from the fridge before he popped the lid and downed the entire thing in one go. Mark grinned at the sight. There wasn’t that much difference after all, between the fiendish best friend of his older brother he had shared late night pizzas with while growing up and the hotshot lawyer in a Tom Ford suit standing in his kitchen. “Not just for my convenience, but also for your brother’s heart. We both know Taeyong doesn’t need more stress in his life.” 

Mark looked down at his hands, watched as they balled into fists. “They arrested me right in front of him.” 

“I know.” Ten sighed. He crushed the can in his hand before throwing it into the garbage can next to the fridge. “I’m going to go and pick him up now. They wanted to keep him overnight at the hospital, but fuck if I’m going to let that happen. He needs to see you unharmed and out of those godforsaken cuffs, not some shitty sedation drug that will only give him nightmares.” 

Mark felt a bitter bout of laughter bubble up in his throat. He would have killed for another nightmare. 

Ten procured his car keys from his back pocket before he aimed a finger at Mark. “You don’t move while I’m gone. You can tell me where you guys keep your spare blankets once I’m back.”

Mark met Ten’s eyes before he nodded. He watched as Ten took a bottle of water from the fridge before he made a beeline for the kitchen door. Mark closed his eyes and listened to Ten’s footfalls as he left through the front door, listened to the front porch wood creaking under his weight, listened to his car door being thrown shut and the engine starting up. 

He waited until the sound of Ten’s car had faded before he pulled himself to his feet. There was panic welling up in his chest, rising within him along with rage and fear and Mark couldn’t allow any of these emotions to take over him. Ignoring the racing of his heart, he made sure that he still had his key and wallet before he left through the side door. He kept his back pressed to the wall of his house as he inched closer to the street. 

He’d be over in just a second, but there was no way for him to evade the reach of the street lamps. He prayed that none of his neighbours was looking out of their windows at this time of night. Mark couldn’t afford another witness report against him. He crossed the street, calmly enough as to not raise suspicion but quickly enough that he was on the other side in a matter of seconds. 

He kept up his gait as he walked down the sidewalk and then checked another time whether anyone had seen him before he dipped into the driveway of the house two down from his across the street. 

Once upon a time, shortly after his parents’ death in a car wreck and before Renjun had dragged him out by the ears, Mark had fallen in with the wrong crowd. He had never done anything himself, none of the older guys he had shadowed having an interest in letting a thirteen year-old get his hands dirty, but he had watched and by watching, he had learned a bit. Just enough. 

Mark kept to the shadows lining the side of the Seos’ house before he had made it to the back. The windows on his way had been closed, but that wouldn’t be a problem. Once he had found the back door, he took his wallet out of his backpocket and slipped the Costco reward card Taeyong had signed him up for out of its case. Curling his hand around the door handle, he slipped the card into the crevice between the door and its frame and pulled it down until he was meeting resistance. Mark thanked all the gods he knew that the Seos’ house was just as old as his own as he jerked the handle, flicking his card against the security bolt at the same time and the door sprang open. 

With all the lights off, the house was eerily quiet and Mark caught himself holding his breath as he set foot into what he identified to be the kitchen. His footfalls were loud against the tiled floor and Mark considered taking off his shoes, but that would have cost him precious time. Instead, he pocketed his wallet and navigated his way through the dark. 

After the kitchen came a hallway and there Mark found the stairs leading upstairs. By then, Mark’s eyes had adjusted to the dark enough for him to make out the picture frames on the walls, covering nearly every inch of wallpaper. There were shots of Donghyuck at all stages of his life, surrounded by friends and family and most of them with Johnny in the frame, taken by someone else. The pictures were interspersed with nature shots or photos of landmarks, two tiny dots waving at the camera standing in front of them and Mark willed himself to look away. 

He couldn’t allow himself to get lost in the glimpses of Donghyuck’s life on these walls. He had to make sure there would be more picture frames. Maybe Johnny would find space for them in the bathroom. The first door he opened was the bathroom door and Mark was quick to pull it back shut. He doubted that he would find anything useful in there. The second time, he got lucky. 

Mark allowed himself a moment to take in Donghyuck’s room, feeling overwhelmed by the smell of body spray, dirty laundry and _boy_ that hung in the air. It would have been too risky to turn on the ceiling light, but there was light given by a string of fairy lights that had been stapled to the wall above Donghyuck’s bed and Mark let his eyes roam over every detail of the room that he could make out. 

The sight of the musical posters plastered to the walls made him smile, and so did the assortment of knick-knacks on the shelf that he passed. There were action figures, a deck of tarot cards that would have made Hendery weep with joy and a dreamcatcher draped over a worn copy of _Much Ado About Nothing._

Mark was careful not to step on any of the piles of dirty laundry littering the floor as he walked over to the desk sitting under window in the corner. He sifted through school folders and note sheets before he discarded that idea and moved on to the night stand. _Please,_ he thought, _please just give me a hint. Just give me anything that tells me where you are._

He pulled open the bottom drawer and frowned at the mess of cables inside before pushing it back shut and opening the one above. This time he was met with empty candy wrappers, a half-empty tub of vaseline and a small, leather-bound book. Mark bit down on the inside of his cheek as he picked up the book, nearly jumping a foot into the air when the pen that had been wedged between the pages fell out and clattered to the bottom of the drawer. 

Mark waited until his heart had started beating at a normal pace again before he cracked the book open and leafed through it to the last page with writing he could find. His first thought was that Donghyuck’s handwriting was much neater than his own. 

_I can’t tell he’s angry with me, but I told him I hadn’t said anything. I could tell he didn’t believe me, but I just left it at that. If he gets that angry about someone looking at me, then that’s his problem. It’s not like I don’t have enough of my own._

Mark frowned and turned back a page. He skimmed over that entry too, but he found no names on the page that would have helped him make sense of what he had read before. Whenever there would have stood a name, Donghyuck had used an array of symbols that meant nothing to anyone except for him to fill in the blank space. _He’s quite rebellious, Donghyuck,_ Mr Nakamoto’s voice echoed in his head, _but brilliantly smart._ Mark leafed back to the last entry of the diary and read on. 

_Yesterday I found the letter Mom sent me. I don’t want to tell Dad that I read it. He always gets so angry when I want to talk about her and it’s not like I don’t understand why. If she didn’t want me as a baby, she has no right to want me now. It’s not like I need her anyways. I have Dad and Uncle Doie and my friends and Yuta, even though he insists I still call him Mr Nakamoto at school. It’s stupid because no one else in Drama Club does it, but it’s better doing it than him telling me to do it all the time._

Mark felt his insists twist. There wasn’t much more, only a description of what Donghyuck had had for dinner that Saturday night, and then a single sentence, too inconspicuous to be profound but it still made Mark’s heart race. 

_I hope I can sleep tonight._

Mark felt his knuckles turn white as he clutched the diary in his hands more tightly, the air in his lungs escaping through his nose. He didn’t get to sort through the overlapping thoughts in his mind when there was a soft click behind him and then the ceiling light turned on. 

“You’re not my son.” 

Mark felt his heart still in his chest. The diary in his hands slipped from his fingers and landed in its drawer with a soft thud, flattening several of the candy wrappers. Mark made sure to push the drawer closed with his calf as he slowly turned around. 

Johnny was standing on the threshold to the room, his dark eyes fixed on Mark’s face. In his left hand, he was holding a screwdriver and Mark swallowed when he lifted the screwdriver to point the sharp end at Mark’s chest. 

Johnny’s eyes seemed to darken another fraction. “What are you doing in my son’s room?” 

Mark made sure to raise his hands before he spoke, “I can explain.” 

Johnny’s nostrils flared. “Doyoung told me it wasn’t you. Do you want to tell me he was wrong?” 

Hastily, Mark shook his head. “No, he was right. it wasn’t me. I didn’t even know Donghyuck—I _don’t_ know him.” Mark willed himself to be brave. “But I do want to find him.” 

Johnny’s eyes widened in disbelief before they narrowed. “Why?” 

“I can explain that, too,” Mark eyed the screwdriver, the tool quivering slightly as Johnny’s hand did, “if you let me.” 

Mark could see the conflict unfold in Johnny’s eyes. He waited with bated breath until finally, Johnny’s arm fell to his side and he stepped over to the door to open it further. “After you, then. Let’s talk in the kitchen.” 

Mark sent a quick prayer heavenwards that Johnny wouldn’t stab him in the back and lead the way downstairs. He declined Johnny’s offer of coffee and watched with as much patience as he could muster as Johnny dropped his screwdriver back into the open toolbox on the kitchen counter and made himself a cup. Mark was thankful that Johnny had one of those pod machines and they didn’t have to wait for an entire pot to brew. 

“If you don’t want coffee, you can also take a look into the fridge.” Johnny settled down on the kitchen chair across from Mark. It was the second time that night that he had to prepare himself for an interrogation, Mark realised. “Donghyuck has a mountain of Gatorade in there, I think that’s what you kids like?” 

Mark felt his heart seize. He knew that Donghyuck didn’t keep them for himself. “No,” he cleared his throat. “No, thank you.” 

Johnny shrugged, taking a sip from his coffee before setting the cup back down. He folded his hands in front of his face and Mark could see the exhaustion in his face, in the way his shoulders drooped. “So then, tell me, why did I find you in son’s room a mere hour after you were released from the suspicion of being responsible for his disappearance?” 

Suddenly, Mark wished he had taken Johnny up on his offer for something to drink. His throat was parched. “I was trying to find clues.” 

“Clues.” Johnny hummed. “Right, because you’re trying to find him. My son, that you don’t know.” 

 _But I do,_ Mark wanted to say, _but I do know him. I know the dream of him._  

But that was not something he could share with Johnny. That was not something he could share with anyone if he wanted to go free tonight after all. There was something he could tell Johnny, though, something that rang true even if Mark had never striven for forgiveness.

“I did something bad,” Mark confessed and it felt weird to say it out loud. He had never spoken about it before with anyone that wasn’t family to him, that didn’t understand why he had done what he had done. “I destroyed a man’s life because he took my brother’s dream away.” 

“Your brother?” Mark wanted to smile at the sudden spark of concern in Johnny’s eyes. “Taeyong, is he okay?” 

“He’s fine now.” Mark thought carefully about his next words. “He wasn’t fine then.” 

“What happened to him?” Mark wanted to laugh when Johnny sat up straight in his chair, his fingers closing around his mug even thought it was still steaming hot. He couldn’t believe pink booty shorts and his brother’s endless offers of coffee and lemonade had done the job.

“You might already know this, but my brother is a really good cook.” The lack of reaction on Johnny’s face told Mark that Taeyong hadn’t managed to sneak one of his meals in front of the other man so far. “He’s been into food science ever since he was little and when he graduated high school, he used all the money to his name to apply to New York’s best culinary school.” 

A smile grazed Mark’s lips at the memory of how excited Taeyong had been when he had received his acceptance letter in the mail. Looking back, it might have been the happiest days of all of their lives. “He got in, of course, and from then on he practically lived in the kitchen’s there. My brother is a really good chef. He was better than anyone else in his class and that got him some attention.” 

Mark could tell by the way Johnny’s expression turned sober that he had understood Mark wasn’t talking about the good kind of attention.

“His name doesn’t matter, but he was one of Taeyong’s teachers. If you care to know, you can google my brother’s name and you’ll find out all about him. He’s quite famous. They dated on and off for two years, until it was time for my brother to graduate. His final examination went as expected and he got a job offer.”

More happy tears, Mark remembered, more jumping up and down and the smell of sticky maple syrup as Taeyong had made them pancakes at three in the morning.

“His by then ex-boyfriend didn’t like that. He didn’t want Taeyong to leave. To this day, I like to think that he could have offered him a job in one of his own restaurants. He could have talked to Taeyong. But he was possessive piece of shit. He didn’t want anyone else to take an interest in my brother.”

Mark felt the hand around his heart tighten.

“What did he do?” Johnny asked quietly.

“He uploaded a video of my brother.” Mark felt his smile turn sour. The rage he felt was so familiar to him that it stung only a little to contain it. “I’m not sure if you know what revenge porn is, but I think you can imagine what a video with that name depicts.”

Johnny’s eyes went wide before they fell to his mug. He rubbed a hand over his face before he nodded. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” Mark agreed. “The video made quite the rounds. It blew up once it came out who had filmed it and from what my brother told me, the other chefs from his class found it very amusing to see the best of them fall so low. Some of them even went to the board to complain. They couldn’t ex-matriculate Taeyong because he had already delivered his final examination, but they did about everything else. They stripped him of all the awards that went along with his performance. His job offer was retracted too, of course.”

Mark looked down at his hands. “That was my brother’s dream. He wanted to be a famous chef, he slaved away for four years to make it through the program and then that man took it away from him.”

“What did you do to him?” There was no judgement in Johnny’s voice, just honest curiosity.

This time, Mark’s smile came easy to him. “I took two friends and a baseball bat and we intercepted him on his way home.” Rain, Mark could still feel the rain on his face, the atrocious stench of a New York City back alley and how numb he had been to it all. He had been just rage then, rage and a metal baseball bat. “I aimed for his hand more than anything else. I figured that he needed it to cook, so I took it away from him.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said you destroyed his life.”

“I destroyed his career just like he destroyed my brother’s. I destroyed _his_ dream. I don’t regret it.”

“Shit.” Johnny sighed. “I want to say that I don’t understand how anyone could do such a thing, but—” his eyes flickered over to the tool box still sitting on the counter and Mark remembered how grim Johnny’s expression had been when he had aimed the screwdriver at Mark, how determined.

“I paid for my crimes,” Mark said. “I spent a year of my life locked away and repented and in exchange they sealed my record for me. This place was supposed to be a fresh start for my brother and I.” Mark couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his tone. He rubbed over the red marks on his wrists. “Though, I guess it didn’t quite work out that way.”

“I understand that, but now I have to ask how that explains that you broke into my house and went into Duckie’s room?”

Mark bit the inside of his cheek. “I learned about Donghyuck’s disappearance—hell, his _existence_ the same night that we met at the police station. But when I heard what had happened and everyone at school kept talking about it, I thought to myself that maybe I could help. Maybe I could find him. I thought that maybe if I did this one good thing, then it would cancel out some of the bad I did.”

Recognition flashed in Johnny’s eyes. “You’re the boy that was with Jeno and Jaemin.” 

Mark nodded. “They’ve become good friends to me. They’re also another reason why I want to help find Donghyuck.”

Johnny exhaled through his nose, rubbing over his face once again before he blinked at Mark. “Your story sounds batshit crazy, you’re aware of that, right?”

Mark shrugged because there was nothing else he could do. “Yeah.”

Johnny shook his head, but the words that came over his lips were, “Fuck it. It’s not like I’m not desperate enough. So, do you know what happened to my son?”

“I’m not sure.” Mark quickly continued as he saw Johnny’s expression fall. “I think I know who it was, though.” 

Johnny’s eyes widened as he instinctively leaned forward, the coffee in his mug splashing over the rim as he he reached out his hands. Johnny didn’t even flinch when the hot liquid hit his skin. “Who was it?” 

Mark took a deep breath. “I believe that it was Mr Nakamoto, our English teacher.”

Johnny stilled, his mouth dropping open. “Mr Nakamoto? Yuta? Yuta Nakamoto?” 

Mark nodded. 

Johnny stared at him for a long moment before he shook his head, leaning back in his seat. “No.”

“Don’t brush it off.” Mark felt frustration build within him. “I know it sounds absurd, but they’re connected! They—”

“It wasn’t Yuta, Mark.” Johnny’s voice was stern as he interrupted him, then he deflated. “Donghyuck has a connection with him because Yuta is one of my best friends.” 

Mark didn’t let that deter him. “In most abduction cases it’s someone the victim already knows and Mr Nakamoto called in sick on Monday a.k.a the first day of Donghyuck’s disappearance. Doesn’t that mean anything?“

“It doesn’t, because I already knew that.” 

Mark furrowed his brows. “You knew that?” 

Johnny sighed. “Admittedly, Yuta didn’t call in sick on Monday because he was actually sick, but I can assure you that he was definitely not kidnapping my son.”

Mark narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?”

“Because I was with him. We were at the City Hall in the afternoon. I stood in as witness for his wedding,”

Mark felt his jaw drop open. “Mr Nakamoto called in sick to get married on Monday?”

Johnny snorted at his expression. “Yeah, kid, do you want to see pictures?”

Mark lowered his gaze as he watched the house of cards he had built crumble. It left blank paper in its wake and Mark felt his chest tighten at the realisation that he had nothing. “I’m sorry…I was sure.”

To his surprise, Johnny’s expression was gentle as he laid a hand on Mark’s arm. “Hey, kid, it’s okay. I appreciate you trying to help. Not necessarily that you thought you had to break into my house to do so, but thank you. I’m—” Johnny’s voice became thin and he swallowed before continuing on. “I’m really thankful that you wanted to find him.”

 _It’s not in the past,_ Mark wanted to tell him. _He’s not in the past._ But he knew that that would have been out of line and Johnny had suffered enough because of him already. There was one last thing he wanted to ask though, had to as long as he still had the chance.

“Johnny?”

The other man smiled up at him. “Yeah, kid?”

“Can I ask what happened that night? On Sunday, when Donghyuck ran away?”

The corners of Johnny’s mouth lifted up at the mention of his son’s name, but there was such bottomless sadness in his eyes that Mark found another reason to add to his list of why he had to find Donghyuck. At the same time, he took Johnny off the list scribbled onto the back of the movie poster hanging above his bed. He knew it hadn’t been Johnny, had known it the moment he had tested Johnny’s reaction to Doyoung’s text. It hadn’t been Johnny, not with the way he seemed soulless without his son.

Johnny stared into his mug. “We were fighting. Donghyuck is—god, I love the kid to death—but he’s not the easiest child. He’s very headstrong and so am I and because of that sometimes we butt heads. Donghyuck works through things best when he’s on his own, so whenever we fight he’ll run away for a couple of hours and maybe sleep in his best friend’s basement and then once he’s cooled off he’ll come back and we talk about it like adults. But he always texts me that he made it there safe.”

“He didn’t text you on Sunday.”

Johnny shook his head. “That’s when I knew something was wrong. I figured maybe he conked out at Jaemin’s so I gave him until Monday night after I got back from the City Hall, but there was still no sign of life from him by then and by now…well.”

Mark felt his chest tighten. “He’s still alive, Johnny.”

Johnny nodded. “I know.” He placed a hand on his heart. “This old thing wouldn’t beat anymore if he wasn’t.”

Mark pressed his lips together. There were no further words of consolation that he could have offered Johnny and so he stayed mum, quietly rose to his feet.

Johnny smiled at him, finally taking the time to wipe the coffee of his hands., “You had a long day too, kid. Do you think you’ll find your way home on your own?”

Mark grinned. “Yeah, just so.”

“Make it there. Your brother deserves some peace.”

Mark nodded as he made a beeline for the door. “Good night, Johnny.”

“Good night, kid.”

Mark hurried to make his way out of the house and sprinted the few metres back to his own. He was grateful when he saw that Ten’s car hadn’t returned to their driveway yet. He let himself in through the side door and sprinted up the way to his room, praying that he would have enough time to change into his pajamas before Ten and Taeyong came back.

His heart stopped when he walked into his room to find that the light was already on and his room wasn’t as empty as he had expected it to be. There was someone already inside. 

Mark’s voice came out in a whisper, “Jaemin?” 

The other boy turned around from where he had been staring at the posters on Mark’s wall. Mark thanked all the deities that existed he had thought to hang to hang them up the right way around, his notes on the back hidden. 

He noticed that Jaemin’s eyes were red-rimmed as the other boy sized him up, the expression on his face bleak. “The front door was open when I came, so I let myself in. I thought you’d be there but you weren’t, so I thought I’d wait for you in your room. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Jaemin—” 

The other boy shook his head, fresh tears springing to his eyes as he motioned for Mark to hold on. 

Mark felt his heart sink. “It wasn’t me, Jaemin, you have to believe that. I didn’t kill Donghyuck. I didn’t have anything to do with his disappearance. Your brother’s arrest was false.” 

Jaemin covered his face with both hands then and Mark was caught between wanting to reach out and being scared that Jaemin would pull away from him if he did. That was until he realised that Jaemin wasn’t sobbing behind his hands. He was laughing. 

“You think I don’t know that?” The glint in Jaemin’s eyes was hysterical as he pulled his hands away from his face to wipe his nose instead. The sleeve of his sweater fell back as he did so and Mark’s eyes were drawn to the neon-coloured friendship bracelets on his wrist. “I know you didn’t kill my best friend, Mark. I know it wasn’t your fault.” 

“What? How?” Mark was scared of the answer.

“Because it’s mine.” Jaemin’s arm lowered as his eyes fell to the ground, dulled. “I killed him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong: So, Mark, what happened to your Costco card?  
>   
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/taeyongseo)  
> [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/taeyongseo)  
> [the official tdc playlist](http://open.spotify.com/playlist/3YEKeV2un8uCm32Zu3jSDS?si=Mwks7_9_RMCAGrRcuQRn_g)


	7. Signal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally back after moving countries, so here's to new encounters!

“What do you mean?” Mark took a step forward. “What do you mean you killed him, Jaemin?” 

“He tried to call me.” Fresh tears sprang to Jaemin’s eyes and he was not quick enough to wipe them away. “He tried to call me that night, but I ignored his calls and then he disappeared. It’s my fault, Mark. If I had picked up, he could have told me where he is. He could have come to me. He wouldn’t be gone. If he’s dead—” Mark caught him just before Jaemin crumbled. “If he’s dead, I killed him. I killed my best friend just because I was a jealous asshole, _oh my god.”_

With Jaemin clinging to him for dear life as he cried, Mark began to breathe through his mouth, loudly to the count of four, seven, eight. He waited until Jaemin was subconsciously matching his breathing.

“You didn’t kill him, Jaemin.” Mark held on tight even when Jaemin tried to break free from his grasp. “He’s not dead.”

Jaemin shook his head, smearing his tears against Mark’s cheek. “You don’t know that.”

 _I do know,_ Mark wanted to say, but that was not something he could have told Jaemin. It wasn’t something that Jaemin would have been able to process in the state he was in right now, if he would have believed Mark at all.

“We have to believe that he’s fine,” he amended. “I’ve never met Donghyuck, but I’m pretty sure he would punch you in the nuts for giving up hope on him. So we shouldn’t either, right?”

Jaemin went still in his arms as he mulled over Mark’s words. Then he pulled away.

“You’re right.” He used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe his nose. “Hyuck’s way to stubborn to be gone.”

Mark nodded encouragingly. “That’s right.”

He guided Jaemin over to the bed. His friend’s knees were still wobbly, so they sat down. “Jaemin, what happened that night? Why didn’t you pick up his calls?”

Jaemin sniffed, pressing his sleeves against his eyes. “I can’t tell you. You won’t like me anymore if I tell you.”

Mark frowned. “That’s not true, Jaemin.”

Jaemin’s grin was crooked when he lifted his hands from his face, his eyes gleaming with anger. It was the nasty, reflexive kind and Mark recognised it in a second. He himself had felt a thousand times before. Jaemin was angry at himself, but he would let it out on Mark. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“What don’t I get?” he asked calmly. Mark would endure Jaemin’s anger as long as he got the truth for it.

“It was me, Mark.” Jaemin spit his words like venom and Mark was glad that he was getting it out of his system. “I-I was the one who called the cops on you. I called my brother so he would arrest you.”

Mark nodded, just once. It didn’t hurt as much as he had expected, being stabbed in the back. He supposed it was because he had had time to prepare himself. “I know.”

Jaemin’s mouth dropped open at that, his eyes bulging in surprise. “You know?”

“I had a lot of time to think about what had happened when I was waiting for the Sheriff to interrogate me. I had a different suspect but that turned out to be a bust, so that left you. Well, it left you and Jeno, but you’re the one sitting on my bed right now. You’re the one who went to take a phone call when we arrived at the diner.” Mark didn’t miss the way Jaemin flinched at the mention of Jeno’s name. “Why did you frame me, Jaemin?”

Jaemin stared at him with his mouth open for a moment longer before he snapped it shut. Swallowing, he looked down.

“I panicked.” His fingers closed around his wrist, fiddling with his friendship bracelets. “Jaehyun was asking me so many questions and I—I’ve tried so hard to be as perfect as him, Mark. I didn’t manage to become captain of the basketball team or prom king, but I became school council president and I’ve kept my grades up and if my parents knew that I was even partly responsible for whatever happened to Donghyuck, they’d disown me. My family doesn’t produce criminals. They produce lawyers and policemen and any other type of upstanding citizen you can imagine. I’m the first one who fucked up. I couldn’t have anyone think it was me—I just _couldn’t.”_

Mark felt his heart seize as he watched Jaemin talk years, maybe an entire lifetime of pressuring himself to be perfect off his chest.

“And then of course, once the thought was in my head, I thought that it made sense, you know? You come here and a day later Donghyuck disappears. It was too perfect.”

Mark felt a sardonic smile pull on his lips. Jaemin was more than his brother than he seemed to realise. “Jaehyun said the same thing.”

Jaemin nodded before he took a look at Mark’s face and furrowed his brows. “Aren’t you mad? I nearly got you into huge trouble!”

“What, am I mad that you didn’t trust me?” Mark glanced out the window, glanced at the stars before he pushed himself back and onto his knees so he could detach the first of the movie posters from his wall. He laid it out on the ground with the backside facing upwards, his lists of suspects on display. “I can’t be mad when I didn’t trust you either.”

Jaemin’s eyes roamed over the list and got stuck on his own. Nonetheless, his first words were, “It wasn’t Jeno.”

Mark wanted to smile. “Is he the reason you declined Donghyuck’s calls, Jaemin?”

Jaemin froze. “What did you just say?”

Mark remained silent. It was risky. If he upset Jaemin in the wrong way, he might lose his only chance at hearing the truth. But he had to try. He didn’t have to wait very long for Jaemin to crack.

“Jeno has nothing to do with this.” Jaemin’s voice sounded weak even to his own ears, judging by the way he flinched.

Mark hummed. “But that’s not true, is it?”

Jaemin’s eyes fluttered shut as he shook his head. “He doesn’t know. He _can’t_ ever know. And normally I’m very good at hiding it, but that Sunday I just—he likes Hyuck so much.”

“I’d argue that Jeno likes you a lot, too.”

“No.” The laugh Jaemin let out was nothing but bitter, nothing but heartbroken. “No, you don’t understand, Mark, the way Jeno looks as Hyuck, it’s like he’s the sun or something.”

 _He looks at you like that too,_ Mark wanted to say but bit his tongue. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. “I’m sorry.”

Jaemin shrugged. “We feel how we feel inside and if Jeno likes Donghyuck, then I can’t change that. Lord knows I tried. I tried talking to Donghyuck that morning.” Mark noticed that despite the envy he clearly felt, the expression in Jaemin’s eyes was still fond when he talked about his best friend. He loved him despite everything. “I couldn’t bear watching them anymore so I thought that if I talked to Donghyuck, I could get him to put some distance between them. Of course, Hyuck called me out on my bullshit even before I could open my mouth. I think he knew I liked Jeno even before I did.”

“What happened then?”

“We fought.” Jaemin’s eyes glued themselves back to Mark’s list. “I was a huge asshole and Donghyuck doesn’t take crap from anyone, least of all me. I think it was the ugliest fight we had since kindergarden.”

Mark threw his arm around Jaemin’s shoulder when it looked like the other boy was going to cry again. “It wasn’t your fault, Jaemin. I know it feels like it, but it wasn’t. You never meant to hurt him.”

“I should have picked up the phone.” Jaemin buried his face in his hands. “I should have just picked up my damn phone. God, what am I supposed to _do?”_

“You’re not alone in this, Jaemin.”

Jaemin’s eyes were glimmering when he looked up at Mark. “I just want him back, Mark. I don’t care whether Jeno falls madly in love with Hyuck and they live happily ever after right in front of my face. I just want my best friend back.”

Mark held onto Jaemin as the other boy cried the last of his tears, held him until Jaemin’s shoulders had stopped shaking and where there had been so many emotions raging inside him, only exhaustion was left.

“It’s late,” Jaemin said eventually as he pulled himself out of Mark’s grasp. “I should go.”

Mark nodded. Ten and Taeyong had to come back any moment and he’d rather not explain the stranger in his bedroom that looked all puffy from crying.

“Come on then,” he could feel himself wearing thin, but forced a smile onto his face.

Jaemin looked grateful as he took Mark’s hand.

There was the sound of an engine outside when they had made it down the stairs and Mark felt his blood run cold.

“Shit,” he whispered, his heart beating as the headlights of Ten’s sports car passed through the kitchen window. “Can you go out the back?”

Jaemin nodded, eyes wide, and Mark took him by the hand to lead him through the living room. He pulled the sliding door open as quietly as possible and waved Jaemin out.

“I’ll text you once I’m home,” Jaemin promised before he disappeared into the night, pressing himself along the wall of Mark’s house before he sprinted across the grass and vaulted over the low fence into their neighbour’s garden.

Mark pulled the door close after him and sprinted back into the kitchen. He just so managed to calm his heartbeat and adjust his shirt back into place after Jaemin had pulled on it so much before the front door opened and Ten’s voice trickled in from the hallway. Mark quickly grabbed a glass from the drying rack and filled it with water, setting the glass to his lips as Taeyong and Ten entered the kitchen.

“See, there he is, all limbs attached and still smiling, the demon child.”

Mark ignored Ten as he set down his glass to pull Taeyong into a hug. His brother clung right back, a small noise escaping his mouth that probably would have been a sob if he hadn’t still been drowsy from the sedative they had given him at the hospital.

“What did they give you?” Mark asked as he pulled away to search his brother’s face.

“Just some Valium.” Ten picked up the glass Mark had discarded. He smiled at Taeyong before ruffling the other man’s hair. “Because that’s what you get when you punch the good doctor in the face.”

Mark turned back towards his brother. “You did _what?”_

Taeyong looked sheepish as he took the glass from Ten’s hands. “I may have grazed him with my elbow when he tried to get me to settle down.”

“At least we know where Mark got it from.”

Taeyong glared at his best friend, but he was too busy gulping down the rest of the water to quip back. Mark did it for him.

“Funny, as far as I remember only one of us once got into trouble for getting into a fist fight with a Pizza Hut manager once and it was no one in this room with the last name Lee.”

Ten scoffed, his cheeks tinting pink as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “First of all, you brat, my last name also starts with Lee so your argument is invalid. Secondly, that place nearly sent Hendery into anaphylactic shock when they put artichokes on his pizza even though he asked for broccoli so, yes, I’d gladly punch a Pizza Hut manager any time of the day if it means getting him to call an ambulance for my favourite evil twin.”

“Don’t let Lucas hear that.”

“Oh, I don’t think Lucas minds very much having lost his spot as my favourite brat. He’s quite busy playing favourite boy of someone else these days.”

Mark furrowed his brows. He didn’t understand what Ten meant with that, but before he could pry any further, Taeyong let out a deep sigh, effectively ending the argument between them. Mark found himself pulled into another hug, this time with Ten to join them. Then Taeyong turned around and stumbled off into the direction of the stairs.

“Alright, darling,” Ten called out as he quickly caught up with him, shooting Taeyong a dazzling smile as he slung an arm around his waist. “Let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

Mark remained in the kitchen for a moment longer, leaning back against the counter as he allowed himself to just breathe for a moment. He felt like he had been awake for a thousand years, his visit to the diner that noon seeming like a lifetime away already. As soon as he thought of the diner, his stomach gave a deep rumble and Mark noticed that he hadn’t eaten since his arrest.

He walked over the few steps to the fridge, pulling the door open to peer inside. He was about to grab one of the pudding cups Taeyong kept in the back when a scream cut through the house and Mark dropped it. Mark threw the fridge door shut and was ready to bolt upstairs, but then he saw Taeyong already rushing down the stairs.

Mark felt his heart stop as he realised what Taeyong was holding in his hands. It was his poster, the red ink in which he had written his list of suspects glaring in the overhead light.

“Taeyong—“ he tried, but Taeyong was already throwing the poster in front of his feet.

 _“What_ is that?”

“Yong, I swear I can explain.”

“You better,” his brother all but growled. “Those names, they have to do with the boy, don’t they? Johnny’s son? Oh, god.” Ten hurried into the kitchen just in time to catch Taeyong as he stumbled backwards. “They weren’t right, were they? Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with the disappearance of that boy, Mark!”

“Of course I didn’t!” Mark felt anger rise in his chest. He could take it if Jaemin didn’t trust him, if the police arrested him on suspicion alone, if even Ten questioned him, but he couldn’t bear Taeyong looking at him with doubt in his eyes. After everything they had been through. After everything Mark had done for him. “How can you even say that?!”

Taeyong shook his head and then there was anger in his eyes too.  “You got arrested, Mark. Again! I moved us here to get you away from all the trouble in the city and the first thing you did when we got here was looking for new one?” Taeyong’s voice rose in volume with every word until he was screaming, “Are you crazy?”

Mark felt something inside him tear. His patience had been worn thin by the exhaustion he felt already. He felt like he hadn’t slept since they had arrived, too busy chasing after Haechan in his dreams to get any rest and now Taeyong was yelling at him, throwing the one thing in Mark’s face that Mark was most afraid of. What if he _was_ crazy? What if his dreams had never been real at all? What if he was crazy to chase after Haechan when Donghyuck was most likely dead already?

It made Mark feel like an animal, cornered and alone and willing to lash out.

He spit his next words, “Oh, please! Do me a favour, Taeyong, and stop pretending like you moved us here for my sake when you did it for no one but yourself!” Hurt, he wanted Taeyong to hurt as much as he did. “We both know the only reason why we moved to this shitass town is because you got sick of people talking shit about you! How dare you make it sound like that was my fault? I’m not the one who thought sucking his teacher’s dick was good idea and let the perv film it!”

It was the sound that reached Mark first. He heard the slap of Taeyong’s palm colliding with his cheek before he felt his skin burn, the skin flaring up with pain.  His eyes grew just as wide as Taeyong’s as they both stared at his brother’s hand and he could see the instant regret in his brother’s eyes, the way his hand fell and he collapsed in on himself as heavy guilt filled the spaces his anger had previously held upright.

“Mark,” Taeyong choked out, reaching out for him, but Mark was already taking a step back. His cheek hurt, but that was nothing against the pain in his heart. His hand shook as he raised it to his face.  

“Mark,” Ten said, the gravity in his voice making Mark recoil even further.

It was wrong. It was wrong. Ten wasn’t supposed to sound so serious. He was supposed to be joking and Taeyong was supposed to pretend to get annoyed, but secretly love it. The only two adults in his life that had never let him down and now they were both coming for him.

He felt his breath grow erratic as his rib cage tightened. Out, he needed to get out. Not able to bear the distraught expression on his brother’s face any longer, Mark turned around and headed for the side door.

“Mark!” Taeyong’s voice grew frantic behind him, but Mark paid him no mind as he ripped the door open and pushed against the fly door until it flew open. His eyes were prickling, burning with unshed tears. From the pain on his face or in his soul he didn’t know.

“Mark, come back!” Mark picked up pace when he heard Taeyong follow him. “I’m sorry! Come back inside! Mark!”

The lights of the street lamps hurt his eyes and so Mark turned in the opposite direction, running along their garden fence until he had made it to the end of their property. He took a page out of Jaemin’s book and jumped over the low fence, finding footing on the uneven ground after it.

He could still hear Taeyong screaming after him as he made his way into the woods. The sound of the forest was drowned out by the static in his head and Mark fought to get through the underbrush. The branches and bushes clawed at his legs, tearing through the fabric and his skin but Mark didn’t care. His lungs were clogged with the smell of earth after rain and his own sweat and he couldn’t stop running. 

Just when he thought his lungs might burst, his foot was caught by a root and he was sent crashing to the ground, his knees hitting the uneven ground hard as his face was scratched by leaves before it landed in the dirt. For a long moment, Mark just lay there, breathing heavily, willing his limbs to start moving again and his tear-blurred vision to adjust to the dark.

His fall had scraped one of his knees open and he could feel the cut sting, was thankful when the pain of it helped cut through the chaos in his mind. If he focussed on the pain in his knee, it was easier to ignore the iron-tight grip on his heart. Help. He needed help and there was only one person he knew would understand him, would help him calm his mind and sort through the mess his life had turned into.

With a groan, Mark rolled onto his back and reached into the front pocket of his jeans. He was eternally grateful when he saw that his phone had survived, not even a scratch on the screen. He could have dialled Renjun’s number blindly, his heart pounding against his rib cage as he pressed his phone against his ear.

Mark nearly screamed when all he got was Renjun’s voicemail.

“Renjun,” he panted into the receiver. “Renjun, fuck! I don’t know why the fuck you’re not answering my calls, why the fuck you’ve been ignoring me, but I need you, okay? I need my best fucking friend to be there for me, because I’m going insane and I need your help. I-I’ve been having dreams. Crazy, fucked up dreams and I can’t get him out of my head, Renjun, he’s everywhere I look, always at the forefront of my mind.

“I don’t know where he is, Renjun, I’ve got no fucking idea, but I feel like I might die if I don’t find him.” The laughter that left his mouth sounded hysterical, even to his own ears. “I’m losing my mind. Fuck, I’m definitely losing my mind.” This time, he sobbed. “Please, call me. Please. I need you. I can’t do this on my own. I’m losing it.”

Mark’s grip tightened around the phone when he was cut off by the machine and he barely resisted smashing his phone against the nearest tree. Instead, he put the volume on loud and turned on the flashlight. With the canopy above obscuring the moon, he was cast into complete darkness without it.

Breathing to the count of four, seven, eight, he pushed himself into a sitting position, letting his eyes roam over his surroundings. The trees were sparser here, allowing for some ground in between and Mark used the nearest branch to pull himself to his feet.

His brows furrowed when his flashlight caught onto a flash of colour and Mark took a step away from the tree to take a closer look at the branch he had been holding onto. Caught against a spike in the wood was a piece of fabric, a braided string of neon yellow thread and Mark felt his heart stop. He would have recognised that particular kind of friendship bracelet anywhere, had spent the past week staring at it in all the variations it had been made.

This one was new though. This one he had never seen before, not on Jaemin or Jeno or even Mr Nakamoto. This friendship bracelet didn’t belong to any of them. It fell to the ground when Mark reached out to touch it and Mark was quick to pick it up.

“Donghyuck!” he called out but received no answer.

That didn’t stop him. “Donghyuck!” he kept screaming as he ran further into the woods, willing the neon yellow thread in his hand to guide him to its owner.

He nearly toppled over when his foot was caught by another root, but this time he managed to catch himself and he saw that he hadn’t stepped into a root at all. The ground had given way beneath his feet. Instinctively, he stumbled a few steps backwards and held out his flashlight.

In front of him, the ground was split open in a crevice the bottom of which Mark couldn’t make out. His heart lurched in his throat. It had rained the night Donghyuck had disappeared. Maybe enough to set the earth moving.

“Donghyuck!” he called out again. “Haechan!”

There was no answer but Mark didn’t need one. He already knew. Pushing his phone between his teeth, he caught onto the nearest rock and began to slide down the wet earth into the crevice, catching onto rocks and roots whenever he could. He reached the ground quicker than he had thought, shivering against the cold of the earth that surrounded him from three sides.

He didn’t feel the cold any longer when he caught another glimpse of neon in front of him and then he was rushing forward, stumbling over the tilted, debris-littered ground towards the flash of orange until it solidified in his vision, took the shape of a boy. Mark felt his breath catch in his throat. 

Donghyuck was lying on the ground, caught underneath some debris that had slid down the crevice with him. Only about half of him was visible and his leg was trapped under a rock big enough that it made Mark swallow. It was clear that Donghyuck would have never been able to lift it on his own, though the state of his fingernails showed that he had definitely tried. He was unmoving, didn’t stir even when Mark climbed over to him.

 _Please, don’t be dead,_ Mark thought, prayed, willed with all his might. There was a thin trail of dried blood leading from Donghyuck's temple down to his neck to soak the collar of his neon orange sweatshirt. Mark felt real fear seize his chest. With shaking fingers, he brushed Donghyuck’s hair out of his face and placed two fingers against his neck.

His skin was cold, leaving Mark with the sensation of cold burn against his fingertips, but there was a beat below his fingers. Donghyuck’s pulse was weak, but it was there. He was breathing despite the stone cold temperature of his skin. Mark wanted to cry from relief.

Taking his phone from his mouth, he illuminated their surroundings in search of anything that might help him lift the debris from Donghyuck’s leg. What he found was Donghyuck’s backpack, open with several empty Gatorade bottles littering the ground in between the backpack and Donghyuck himself and a couple metres further down was his phone, lying screen down against a rock. When Mark picked it up, he saw that the screen was completely shattered.

He dropped the phone and returned to Donghyuck’s backpack, but it seemed that Donghyuck had already taken out anything remotely useful. Except for the empty Gatorade bottles there were also more of the candy wrappers Mark had found in his drawer, and a pocket knife.

Mark’s heart sank as he found what Donghyuck had used it for. With nothing else to do, it seemed that Donghyuck had spent his time carving into the rock next to his head. _Donghyuck Seo,_ he had carved first, along with a tally of how many days had passed and below it a message, the last words he had wanted to give to the world. _I’m sorry, Dad. I love you._

Mark blinked away tears as he fell to his knees next to the unconscious boy.

“You’re not going to die,” he told him. His hands were shaking as he pulled Donghyuck’s sweatshirt over his head for him. Faintly, Mark realised that Donghyuck's hair was dyed silver, not pastel-streaked like Haechan's in his dreams. He was still beautiful. “You don’t know it yet, but I’ve spent a very long time trying to find you. You owe it to me to stay alive so we can meet.”

Mark felt a smile pull on his lips as he rubbed his hands together and pushed them against his heart. “Your friends say you’re like the sun. I’d love to see it.”

Donghyuck’s chest was as cold as the rest of him and so Mark didn’t hesitate to pull his own sweatshirt over his head. He pressed the dark, warmed fabric against Donghyuck’s front while he enveloped him from behind. With his arms slung around the other boy’s chest, he reached out for his phone and dialled the only number he could think of.

“Hello?”

“Jaemin,” Mark wanted to cry in relief at hearing his friend’s voice. “Are you with your brother?”

“Jaehyun? Uh, yeah, he’s here. We’re at the station right now. He promised to take me out to dinner after his shift. I plan on telling him what I did—hey, wait! Why are you laughing?”  

Mark willed himself to stop, forced the heaving of his shoulders to cease. “I found him, Jaemin. I found Donghyuck.”

“What?!”

“I found him.”

“Jaehyun!” Jaemin yelled at the other end of the line. “Jaehyun, no, forget your coffee! Come here right now! Mark says he found him.”

Jaehyun’s answer was muffled in the distance but then there was rustling as Jaemin handed off his phone. “Hello?”

“Officer Jung? It’s Mark Lee. I found him.” This time, Mark couldn’t stop the lurching of his stomach. He heaved, “I found Donghyuck.”

“What?” Jaehyun cleared his throat, clearly trying to find his professional police officer voice. “I mean, are you sure?”

“Positive,” Mark suppressed another bout of laughter. He feared it might come out more hysterical than he intended. “We’re in the woods behind my house. I don’t know where exactly, I ran away from home and didn’t see where I was going. But I found him. He’s here. I-I have him in my arms. It was an accident. He got caught under some rocks.”

“Holy mountain god,” Jaehyun uttered before he seemed to remember himself. “I mean is he conscious?”

“No, but he’s alive.”

Mark shared the breath of relief Jaehyun let out. “Do you have any idea where you are, Mark? Can you describe to me what you see?”

“We’re in a landslide.” Mark looked around. There’s just trees everywhere but it can’t be too far from my house. I wasn’t running for long.”

“Okay, that’s good, very good. Listen, Mark, do you have your GPS turned on your phone?” 

Mark furrowed his brows. “I-I don’t think so?”  

“Turn it on right now. You have to go into your phone settings and turn on the location tracker.”

Mark wiped his nose as he lifted his phone from his ear. He followed Jaehyun’s instructions with shaking fingers, sagging in relief when the symbol next to the setting turned green. He pressed the phone back against his ear. “It’s on.”

“Well done, Mark, very well done.” He could hear Jaehyun hold his breath until there was a muffled voice from his end, the sound of keys being pressed on a keyboard and then Jaehyun let out all the air he had been holding in in a rush. “Okay, we’ve got your signal. Stay on the line so we can track you, Mark. Can you do that? Stay on the line with me, okay, Mark?”

“Donghyuck’s really cold.” Mark pulled up his nose as he held Donghyuck tighter, willed all the warmth in his body to flow over into the other boy. “He shouldn’t be this cold.”

“But he’s breathing, right? He’s still breathing?”

Mark nodded to no one. He could feel Donghyuck’s breath against his arm. “Yes.”

Jaehyun let out another sigh of relief. “That’s great, Mark, you’re doing great. We’re coming for you, okay? Just hold on.”

Mark nodded, fighting against the exhaustion in his own body as he held onto Donghyuck. He only realised belatedly that Jaehyun couldn’t see him and rasped out a “Yeah.”

Jaehyun kept praising him as their connection crackled when Jaehyun moved the phone around. In the background, Mark could hear the sound of car doors being thrown shut and the roar of an engine. He would hum whenever Jaehyun asked him another question and focus only on the heartbeat of the boy he was holding. Donghyuck was alive. He was here. Mark had found him.

He managed to stay awake just long enough for the sound of sirens to reach his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A promise is a promise.  
>   
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/taeyongseo)  
> [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/taeyongseo)  
> [the official tdc playlist](http://open.spotify.com/playlist/3YEKeV2un8uCm32Zu3jSDS?si=Mwks7_9_RMCAGrRcuQRn_g)


	8. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I could keep it short, I mumble to myself as I set up the final chapter count to add another three.

In the space between sleep and wakeness, Mark strained against the arms wrapping around his chest, fought against the force that was holding him back from reaching his dream.

“Mark!”

Silver streaks shot past his eyelids, but before he could chase any of them, his back hit solid ground and then there was a hand that came down on his cheek, more gently than his brother had been, but the memory was enough to jolt him into full wakeness. Mark’s eyes flew open, but he immediately closed them again when there was a flashlight pointed at his face.

“Oh, sorry.”

Mark blinked his eyes open again when the flashlight was lowered and he found Jaehyun staring down at him, the officer’s face marred with concern. It was only then that Mark realised that the arms around his chest had been real. They had pulled him from the landslide. The landslide where he had found Donghyuck.

“Donghyuck,” he breathed out, his eyes widening as he grabbed onto Jaehyun’s forearm. “Where is Donghyuck?”

“Right over there,” Jaehyun helped him to sit up when Mark’s arms wouldn’t support his weight. Mark clung to the officer, the warmth of Jaehyun’s body sending a shiver down his own. He was still shirtless, but he couldn’t find it in him to care when they had laid down Donghyuck just metres away from him. 

He couldn’t see Donghyuck’s face past the EMTS that were kneeling around him. All he could see were scraps of black fabric littering the ground where they had cut away his jeans around his mangled leg and the reflective gold of a thermal blanket. And Sheriff Kim, who was kneeling by Donghyuck’s side, silent tears running down his cheeks as he held onto his godson’s hand.

Mark’s grip on Jaehyun’s arm tightened. “Is he still alive? Tell me, he’s still alive!”

Mark felt any remaining strength leave his body when Jaehyun nodded at him, a dimple appearing in his cheek. “He’s alive. Barely, but he is. They’re getting him ready for transport. Don’t worry about him now, Mark. You did well keeping him warm.”

“I found him,” Mark said, feeling his eyes burn with unshed tears. He couldn’t avert them from the spot where he knew Donghyuck lay, mere metres away and yet unreachable. “I really found him.”

“You really did.” Jaehyun’s gripped onto Mark’s fists that were curled into his jacket and draped Mark’s arms around his neck instead. “Is it okay if I pick you up?”

Mark nodded. He didn’t think he would have been able to walk on his own. His teeth were chattering and so he pressed his cheek into the warm, crisp fabric of Jaehyun’s uniform. He tried to keep his eyes open, tried to catch another glimpse of Donghyuck over the policeman’s shoulder, but before he could do so, his eyes had slipped shut on their own and the last thing that reached him was an aborted cry reaching over the static voices of the rescue team, a last uproar before there was nothing but silence resounding in Mark’s mind.

*

Mark had never been fond of beaches. He didn’t get the appeal of sitting on a stretch of sand that would inevitable end up invading every available crevice on your body just to stare at a body of water so much bigger than you. A body of water too big to be impacted by human misery, or desire. In his dream, he thought he might come to like them.

In his dream, he was wearing swimming trunks that looked like the ones he had had when he had been twelve and Haechan was with him.

“Nice shorts,” Haechan commented as Mark let himself flop down on the beach towel next to him. He looked gorgeous in the sun, his teeth glinting with the force of his grin and Mark punished him by shaking out his hair like a dog.

He regretted it a moment later when he saw how good Haechan looked with droplets of ocean water running down his skin, trailing down the bare lines of his torso. Haechan followed his gaze before his grin broadened and he sat back, puffing out his chest. “Like what you see?”

Mark smiled, turning his head to look towards the ocean instead.  “I like it here.” He let his eyes slip shut to savour the sun shining down on him, drying him off. “I like being here with you.”

“I agree.” Haechan hummed. His swimming trunks were neon orange. “I thought you might like this one better than the forest.”

Mark cranked one eye open. “How do you mean?”

Haechan shook his head, the silver strands of his fringe falling into his face. “Nothing.”

His eyes were bright when they met Mark’s. Mark felt the grip on his heart loosen when Haechan took his hand. Their fingers slotted together easily and Mark felt no fear. Not with Haechan beside him. Not as long as they were together.

He was content just sitting here with the other boy, watching the waves wash up at shore and letting the sun slowly burn their skin. He could have spent the rest of his life in this moment.

“Hey, Dream?”

He turned his head to meet Haechan's eyes. "Yeah?"

"Thank you for being with me." He was surprised to find Haechan's eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Thank you for being my dream."

Mark felt his smile falter. "What do you mean?" A short, nervous laugh escaped him. "You make it sound like this is goodbye."

Haechan didn't say anything, the tears in his eyes overflowing and Mark felt himself still. "Oh."

Instinctively, he squeezed Haechan's hand tighter.

"What's going to happen now?" his voice came out in a whisper. He didn't want to think of the world outside of their beach. It scared him. The real world was painful. His oasis was the only place he had ever known true peace. He didn't want to lose that. He didn't want to lose Haechan.

"I have no idea." Haechan smiled at him, his hand coming up to frame Mark's jaw and Mark let his eyes flutter shut with the gentle brush of Haechan's thumb against his cheek. "But you found me. You found me, Dream. I exist in the real world now. I think you might end up liking me. Don't you want to find out?"

Mark shook his head. "I want to stay here with you."

Haechan's expression softened at that and he leaned forward. Mark met him halfway, sealing their lips together. It brought the taste of salt onto his tongue and Mark wasn't sure whether that were Haechan's tears or his own. When Haechan pulled away, he pressed his lips to Mark's ear instead, his voice gravel as he said, "It does not do well to dwell on dreams."

Mark sobbed out a laugh. "I know where that's from."

Haechan smiled, beautiful and brilliant and forever the sun that would shine on their eternal day of summer. "You're going to be just fine, Dream."

Mark used the back of his hand to wipe at his eyes. "Was it ever real? Any of this? Was it ever real? Or was I only ever making you up?"

The high trill of Haechan's laughter clashed with the crushing waves on the shore and Mark found his lips kissed again, then his cheek and then Haechan was throwing his arms around his neck. Mark held on as tight as he could, unwilling to let go even if they were running out of time.

"That's what I should ask you, don't you think?” Haechan whispered into his ear. “You were my dream, after all."

*

Mark woke up in a hospital bed, the low creak of the door opening coaxing him awake. He felt toasty underneath the blankets, warm and secure, but there was sunlight tickling his nose and that was wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be day. He scrunched up his nose.

“Mark,” a deep voice reached his ears and then there was a hand on the lump under the blanket that was his arm.

Reluctantly, he pried his eyes open. He was met with the face of a man in a white lab coat, his expression solemn but not unkind. The smile that tugged on the corner of his mouth made him look elvish.

“Hello, Mark,” the man said. “My name is Dr Sicheng Nakamoto. I’m very happy to see that you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Mark’s throat stuck together when he tried to swallow and so he retched out a “Thirsty.”

Dr Nakamoto nodded as if he had expected that and reached for the cup of water on Mark’s bedside table. “Is there any pain you feel, or discomfort?”

Mark took the cup from the doctor and gulped down about half of it before answered, “I feel okay.”

“You came in with symptoms of overexertion and a mild case of hypoglycemia.” At Mark’s questioning look, Dr Nakamoto elaborated, “You didn’t eat much yesterday, did you?”

“Oh.” Mark felt his cheeks burn as he looked down at his cup. “No, not really. I kind of, uhm, got arrested.”

To Mark’s surprise, the doctor didn’t seem fazed at all to hear that. “Yes, the Sheriff told me as much. We gave you sugar solution for the hypoglycemia and a light sedative to have you sleep through the night.” He looked down at the clipboard he had brought. “Have you been having trouble sleeping?”

Mark wanted to laugh at that, but all he managed was a tired smile. “Yeah, you could say that. Stress,” he added when he realised how ominous that sounded in connection to his arrest. “We just moved here so I’ve been having trouble adjusting.”

Dr Nakamoto nodded sympathetically. “That’s not uncommon for a boy your age. If you find yourself stressed out and unable to sleep even after the adjustment period, please do not hesitate to come back in and we can set you up with a counsellor.”

“Thanks,” Mark said hastily. He didn’t tell Dr Nakamoto that he had probably been through more shrinks than this town had seen in its existence. “I’ll consider it.”

The doctor smiled at him, making another note on his clipboard while Mark sipped the rest of his water. He set the cup down before he appraised his doctor once again. “Hey, doctor, did you know that you have the same last name as my English teacher?”

Dr Nakamoto smiled at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the force of it. “That ought to be my husband then.”

Mark nodded. That made sense.

“Well, Mark, this is all from my side. Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

Mark dug his teeth into the plastic rim of his cup, watching the doctor watch him before he finally asked what he had been wanting to know since he had woken up. “Where is Donghyuck?”

Dr Nakamoto’s expression became a lot more emotional than it had been before. “Donghyuck is being treated at the Intensive Care Unit right now. He came in with a case of severe hypothermia and he also lost a lot of blood because of his shin fracture, but,” Dr Nakamoto added when he saw Mark’s expression, “he’s alive.”

“Is he—” Mark swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Is he going to make it?”

“Yes.” Mark clung to the optimism in Dr Nakamoto’s smile. A moment later, it softened. “You saved his life, Mark. Donghyuck was so dehydrated when he came in, he probably wouldn’t have made it through the night if you hadn’t found him, but because of you we were able to help him.”

Mark felt his eyes prickle with tears and he wanted to blame it on the exhaustion that still sat deeply in his bones. “Thank you.”

Dr Nakamoto shook his head. “No, thank you, Mark. You can rest now. Donghyuck is in good hands and so are you. Besides,” the doctor’s smile turned impish, “there’s a lot of people waiting outside to see you. I’ll fend them off for another hour, but I fear that you’ll have to face them once visitation hours start.”

Mark wriggled deeper underneath his blankets at the prospect and Dr Nakamoto laughed softly as he got up from Mark’s bedside and made a beeline for the door.

“Hey, doc?” Mark called out when Dr Nakamoto had nearly made it to the door.

The doctor turned around. “Yes?”

“Can you tell Mr Nakamoto I’m sorry I missed class? He wanted to start group works today and now I’m not there to be an expert for the symbolism and metaphor group.”

Dr Nakamoto smiled. “I’ll tell him. But don’t worry, I can assure you you’re not the only one missing class today.”

With that, the doctor left and Mark let his head sink back into his pillow. It was easy to let his eyes slip shut, let his mind sink back into the darkness lurking at the base of his skull. He slept and while he slept, he didn’t dream at all.

*

The second time Mark woke up, he wasn’t alone in his hospital bed. There were twiggy arms wound around him from behind and his head was bedded against a bony chest, its heartbeat pounding in Mark’s ear as he buried deeper into the familiar smell of fabric softener and home. He savoured the few, precious moments of peace he had before he had to face the world.

Taeyong hummed above him, his hand coming up to stroke through Mark’s hair. It reminded Mark of the nights Taeyong had swayed him back and forth in his arms when Mark had been six and still afraid of the monster under his bed. His nightmares had been different back then and Mark wished he would still have been able to tell his big brother about them. But he couldn’t so he pulled his arms out from under his blanket and wound them around Taeyong’s middle instead, hugging his brother back as best as he could.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into the fabric of Taeyong’s sweatshirt. “What I said to you was nasty and I’m sorry.” He risked a single glance upwards at Taeyong’s face.

Taeyong’s lips pressed together, his eyes impossibly large and shiny as he shook his head. The smile that pulled his lips apart was so fond, so full of love that Mark felt himself tear up with the feeling of inadequacy.

“Don’t apologise.” Taeyong shrugged and he looked so small in that moment that Mark wanted to go back in time and tape his mouth shut before he could ever speak. “You were right. We left New York because _I_ wanted to leave and that wasn’t fair to you.” Taeyong cleared his throat and Mark could tell by the circles underneath his eyes that his brother hadn’t slept. “You had every right to be mad at me. I was a terrible brother to you. God,” Taeyong lifted one of his hands to press it over his eyes, “I-I even hit you.”

“No,” Mark hastily shook his head. “No, you’re the best brother. I love you so much, Taeyong.”

“I just wish you had talked to me, about the posters. About the boy.” Taeyong’s bottom lip disappeared between his teeth and if Mark had been Ten, he would have reached out and pulled it back out of his brother’s mouth. “I just feel like ever since you came back, you haven’t been talking to me. You used to babble non-stop before they locked you away and now I can barely get you to have a conversation with me at the breakfast table and if that’s my fault because you went after him for me, then I—” Taeyong broke off with a choke.

“It’s not true.” Mark tightened his embrace around his brother’s middle. “It’s not true, Yong. I’ve just been…I’ve just been trying to adjust and when I saw Donghyuck’s missing person’s poster I thought I could make it right. I could find him and then you could be proud of me again and—” Mark took a deep breath. He found that he wasn’t lying. The reasons he gave Taeyong hadn’t been his main motivation, but it was still true—”and I wasn’t angry while I was searching for him. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it. I didn’t want you to worry.”

Taeyong let out a noise that lay somewhere between a sob and a snort, but his eyes were bright, determined as he looked at Mark and Mark saw some of the steel that was threaded through his brother’s spine in his eyes. “I’ve told you before, Mark. You’re my little brother. I always worry about you.”

The click of the door was the only warning they got before they were interrupted.

“You’re cuddling without me?” Ten gasped. “Fucking rude.”

Mark buried his face back in his brother’s chest while Taeyong raised an eyebrow at the paper tray of coffees Ten had brought. “Did you really leave the hospital and drove all the way into town just to get real coffee?”

“Yes, White Chocolate Mocha with molten marshmallows inside, I really did,” Ten said sweetly as he handed Taeyong his cup. “You’re welcome for the cavities.” 

Taeyong let out a delighted noise as he opened the lid to breathe in the cloying smell of his coffee concoction. Ten watched him with a decisively fond eyeroll before he turned towards Mark and lifted his arm, so the bottle he had wedged underneath his elbow fell onto Mark’s lap.

“The boy outside gave me this for you. He said it might make you feel better.”

Mark smiled at the bottle of blue Gatorade in his hands before he turned towards Taeyong. “If I promise to stay within a ten-metre radius to the door, will you let me go outside and talk to my friend?”

Taeyong’s eyebrows furrowed, whether because of Mark’s question or the abnormal sugar content of his coffee Mark didn’t know, but before Taeyong could do so much as protest, Ten had already slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Yes,” he told Mark, holding tightly onto Taeyong even when Taeyong started to wriggle in his grip. “Go, and be a moody teenager. I’ll see if I can get your brother dearest to get some sleep before the hot doctor kicks us out.”

“He’s married.”

Ten shrugged, grimacing when Taeyong licked his palm. “Doesn’t mean he’s not hot. His attractiveness is just an objective observation.”

Mark shook his head in unwilling amusement as he carefully slid off the bed. His knees felt wobbly as he took a couple of steps forward, but otherwise he felt fine. He was happy to see that while he had woken up in one of Taeyong’s sweatshirts, his jeans were still from the night before. Slipping one hand into his back pocket, he pulled the door open and stepped out onto the hallway.

Jaemin was sitting on the bench next to his room, his head rested against the wall behind him. His breathing was too shallow for him to be asleep and so Mark had no problem letting himself fall onto the seat next to him. Jaemin’s eyes flickered open at that, his eyes growing impossibly wide when he saw that it was Mark who had sat down next to him.

“I have something for you,” Mark said before Jaemin could speak.

He watched the words—of gratitude, of exhaustion—die on Jaemin’s tongue.

Mark pulled his hand out of his back pocket and held his palm out for Jaemin to se.

 “Yellow is you, right? Green is Jeno, Donghyuck is orange and yellow are the ones you made.” 

Jaemin nodded dumbly as he accepted the friendship bracelet Mark held out for him.

“I found it hanging in a tree. Donghyuck must’ve lost it when he was running.” 

Jaemin’s fingers closed around the neon yellow thread, his eyes welling up with tears. His voice was raw when he spoke, “Thank you.” 

“Dr Nakamoto said he was fine.”

“If you hadn’t found him—”

“No,” Mark cut him off. “No, Jaemin, that’s not something you should think about. I did find him and that’s all that matters.”

Jaemin looked like he wanted to reach out, but was too hesitant to do so after all that had happened. Mark smiled as he pulled Jaemin into a hug. He stroked the other boy’s back as Jaemin cried into his shoulder. He felt like there were a lot of tears going around on this day, but he also figured that if there had ever been a day to cry, it was this one.

"I really thought he was dead."

He held Jaemin as the other boy cried into his shoulder, letting himself be relieved, because they were here, all of them, alive and unharmed. Because Jaemin had buried his face in Mark’s shoulder, Mark saw Jeno turn the corner at the end of the hallway first. 

Jeno looked as shaken as the rest of them. Like Jaemin, he was wearing yesterday’s clothes and Mark got the impression that none of them had gone home after Donghyuck had been found. Mark found it interesting, the way the optimistic smile on Jeno’s face faltered just the slightest bit when he laid eyes on Jaemin in Mark’s arms.

Nonetheless, his eyes scrunched up when he noticed Mark looking back at him. “Hey, Mark.”

“Jeno.” Mark bumped his fist against the one Jeno was holding out for him before he handed Jaemin over gently. Jaemin stopped sniffling when Jeno laid an arm around his waist. Muttering a quiet word of thanks, he took the tissue Jeno had procured from the pocket of his varsity jacket and blew his nose.

“How’s Donghyuck?” he asked afterwards.

“Stable, from what Sicheng says. They’ve gotten his body temperature up to normal, but they won’t let anyone see him until after the surgery.”

“Surgery?” Mark asked, his heart beating painfully in his chest.

“For his leg. They’re going to operate later today. Johnny looked like he wanted to break through the door when Sicheng told him we’d have to wait outside until after, but Doyoung managed to calm him down.”

Mark allowed himself to relax back into his seat. Dr Nakamoto had promised him that Donghyuck was in good hands and so Mark would believe him.

The door to his room opened.

“Hey, Mark,” Ten stuck his head outside, blinking at Jaemin and Jeno, “and friends.”

Mark felt his heart beat painfully for just a beat before Jeno perked up and held out his hand for Ten to shake. “Hi, I’m Jeno Lee.”

“Nice to meet you, Jeno Lee,” Ten’s eyes shone bright with amusement before he looked at Mark. “You ready to go? I talked to the good doctor earlier and he agreed to release you into my loving arms.” Ten’s grin turned devilish and Mark snorted. “Also your brother needs his bed, so I’d like to go sooner rather than later. Sorry,” he directed at Jeno and Jaemin. “I hope I’m not cutting you short.”

“It’s no problem.” Jeno waved him off. “I actually came to pick Jaemin up so we could get home as well.” At the confused look Jaemin shot him, Jeno smiled. “Doyoung’s going to drive us to your house.”

Jaemin wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his cashmere sweater. “What about Hyuck?”

“Sicheng said we can come back tomorrow morning after he’s woken up.”

Mark bit his lip before he forced himself to ask, “Hey, if you go to visit him, can you text me? Tell me how he is?”

He was thankful when neither Jaemin nor Jeno seemed to be fazed by his question.

“Of course,” Jaemin promised. “I’ll text you updates.”

Mark gave a sincere smile to each of his friends before he pulled himself to his feet and followed Ten back inside his room.

Both Jaemin and Jeno were gone when he came out half an hour later with Ten and Taeyong in tow and Mark was grateful for that. They all deserved rest and despite his heart remaining at the hospital, he let Ten lead him out of the hospital doors. Whether he liked it or not, it was time for him to go home.

*

He spent the day watching old cartoons with Ten while Taeyong slept upstairs. After a lot of protest, Taeyong had given in to taking two of the melatonin gummy bears Ten had bought him on the way home and it had taken less than twenty minutes for him to conk out after. Mark smiled when he looked over at around noon and found Ten sound asleep on the sofa next to him. He made sure to loosen Ten’s tie and cufflinks for him. It couldn’t be comfortable sleeping in a suit, but Mark also didn’t want to risk getting punched in the face if he tried waking Ten up.

So he let both his guardians sleep and tried to focus on the TV instead. It was only once it had gotten dark outside that he remembered that he was waiting for a text. He searched Ten’s bag until he found his phone, just to see that it had died some time between his call in the woods and his morning at the hospital.

He made his way up to his room where his charger was and flopped down on his bed while his phone restarted. A look outside his window told him that the Seo house lay in the dark, the driveway empty. Mark directed his attention towards the stars instead. He wished he could have slept, but despite his body feeling tired, his mind felt alight with electricity.

He picked up his phone when the screen lit up with his lockscreen photo. Much like he had hoped, there was a text message waiting for him, but it wasn’t from Jaemin.

Renjunbro [fri, 12.13am] Missed Call (3)

Renjunbro [fri, 3.53am] Yukhei and I will come visit you next weekend.

Mark blinked at the text message, swiping his thumb over the screen as if it might disappear if he stared at it for too long. It didn’t. Mark felt something inside his chest loosen as he pressed his phone against his chest and breathed out. He felt like he was properly breathing for the first time in a very long time.

With his heart lighter than it had been before, Mark left his phone to charge as he made his way downstairs again. Ten was peacefully asleep where he had left him and the sight was almost enough to keep Mark from stealing his keys. Almost.

“I promise I’ll give them back,” he whispered into the thin air between them before he turned away and made a beeline for the kitchen. The side door to the house was much less noisy than the front door would have been as he snuck outside.

Mark hadn’t lied to Doyoung in the interrogation room. He didn’t know how to drive. That was to say, he had never gotten around to getting his license in New York and the few times he had driven, it had been one of the supercars Yukhei’s father owned but never took for a spin. He left that to his sons—though Mark had never seen Hendery behind a wheel that wasn’t made of cheese—and Mark figured that if he had managed to maintain control of a Lamborghini during kickdown, he could deal with the automatic Ten had rented.

The interior of the car was just as nice as the first time Mark had set in it and he felt a rush of excitement go through him as he pushed the key into its slot and on the start button. The car came to life beneath him with a purr. Mark pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt before he put on his seatbelt. He had all intentions of getting to his destination in one piece, after all.

It wasn’t a long drive to the hospital. The streets were as good as deserted this late in the evening and for the first time Mark was thankful that Hell fell effectively comatose every evening once prime time began. The hospital parking lot was a lot more empty than it had been during the day as well and Mark took advantage of it by parking Ten’s car as far away from any of the other vehicles as possible. He entered the hospital through the ambulance bay, walking with his head up as if he belonged there. Any of the nurses that glanced at him twice, he evaded by disappearing around the next corner.

He let the signs on the walls guide him to the Intensive Care Unit and once he had made it there, he took care to walk more slowly past the windows that allowed him insight into the patients’ rooms. Most of them were empty, which Mark supposed was a good thing. It wasn’t until he had made it to the penultimate room of the hallway that he stopped in his tracks.

It was the silver hair that gave him away, splayed out on his pillow like a halo and nearly extraordinary enough to distract from the tubes sticking out of his arms, the array of machines surrounding his bed. Mark focussed on the machine that showed Donghyuck’s heartbeat, the steady spike in the graph that showed Donghyuck was alive. That he was real and here and Mark had found him like he had promised. He would have given everything to be able to reach through the glass and touch him. Just to be sure. Just to feel that his skin was warm.

“I don’t know how you’ve done it.”

Mark nearly jumped a foot into the air when the familiar voice piped up beside him. Before Mark could give himself whiplash with how fast he turned his head, Johnny had already stepped up to the glass beside him. He rested one of his large hands against the glass before he looked at Mark.

“The thing is, I don’t really care either. Doyoung says that you two, by some insane strike of luck, happened to take the exact same route in your blind, teenage angst and that’s why you found the landslide. The religious folks in town would probably call it grace of God. I think that it doesn’t matter.”

Mark was surprised when he found himself swept up in a bear-hug, his feet leaving the ground as Johnny held him tight. “Thank you,” he told the top of Mark’s head. “Thank you for finding my son. Thank you for saving his life. I can never thank you enough.”

Mark wheezed when Johnny set him back down on his feet and the older man patted his shoulder in apology. There was a certain spark to Johnny’s gaze, a gleam that hadn’t been there before and Mark marvelled at the heart-shaped smile that pulled Johnny’s lips apart.

“I’m still a Dad because of you. You don’t know what that means yet, but trust me when I say that it’s bigger than you can imagine.”

“I think I understand.”

Mark knew that Johnny was right. It was something he definitely had come to learn during the one week he had spent in Hell so far. Donghyuck’s life had never just been his own. Johnny, Jaemin, Jeno, Doyoung and Jaehyun, Chenle and Jisung, the girls at school and even Yangyang and his habit of eating popcorn from the floor. The entire town seemed to hold Donghyuck in a special place in their heart and Mark understood that. He hadn’t even met Donghyuck yet, but he understood.

“How did the surgery go?” Mark as they both turned back towards the window.

“Just fine. It was the blood loss that was more severe to Hyuckie’s system than the actual fracture. Dr Bae is a really good surgeon. She says Hyuckie will walk again in no time.”

Mark was relieved to hear that. He wouldn’t have had a problem pushing a wheelchair for the rest of his life, but Donghyuck didn’t seem like the kind of person who would have appreciated losing a leg he could dance with very much.

They both watched Donghyuck sleep, Mark flicking his gaze from the heart monitor over Donghyuck’s sleeping form to the enamoured expression on Johnny’s face as he watched his son. It made Mark’s heart ache, watching Johnny love his son just for existing and for the first time he found that he had encountered a reason bigger than Haechan than made him glad he had found Donghyuck.

The thought of Haechan sharpened the ache in his chest into something painful, overwhelming with how much he yearned for his dream. It made him want to move. He thought about leaving when he heard Johnny gasp and then Mark found himself taken by the hand, dragged along as Johnny pushed the door to Donghyuck’s hospital room open.

Vaguely, Mark thought that Dr Nakamoto would surely be angry if he found them in here, but then his eyes fell onto the heart monitor hooked up to Donghyuck’s chest and the breath was knocked from his lungs. Where Donghyuck’s heartbeat had been at a steady 63, it was at 79 now and rising. He was waking up.  

“Hyuckie!” Johnny slammed the nurse button above Donghyuck’s bed before he grabbed onto his son’s hands.

Donghyuck’s body twitched under the blankets, his muscles tensing one by one before he relaxed back into the mattress. When Mark looked at his face, Donghyuck’s eyes were open, rolling in his head before they focussed on what was right in front of him.

Donghyuck’s first words were the same as his last ones, carved into stone deep down in the forest. “Dad,” he rasped out and then there were tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he cried out despite the obvious soreness of his throat.  “Dad!”

“I’m here.” Johnny pressed his hands against every inch of his son’s chest he could get to without disturbing any of the cables. “I’m here, Hyuckie. Dad’s here.”

Mark took several steps back when a nurse entered the room. _Joy,_ the name tag on her uniform read and she helped Johnny get Donghyuck into a sitting positing, feeding him sips of water until Donghyuck’s sobs receded into hiccups. She glared at the worn state of Johnny’s construction boots, jeans and flannel as he managed to wedge himself onto his son’s bed, but let him be when Donghyuck visible calmed as soon as he could lean into his dad’s chest.

And it was then, that Donghyuck seemed to notice that he was there.

Mark unconsciously held his breath when Donghyuck’s eyes landed on him, his gaze curious. All that Mark could think was that he was beautiful, and that Mark was glad that out of all the people in the world, he had dreamed of this boy in front of him.

Donghyuck’s eyes swept over his appearance and Mark felt himself unconsciously reach for his hair. Was it greasy? He couldn’t remember the last time he had showered. Did he still have forest grime on his face?

“Dad,” Donghyuck said, his eyes never leaving Mark’s as he tugged on his father’s hand. He made sure that Johnny was looking at him before his gaze flickered right back to Mark. “Who is he?”

Mark felt a smile tug on the corner of his lips. It was hard to breathe again, now that his heart had stopped beating, but that was okay. Donghyuck was here. He was alive and his hand was warm when Mark proffered his own and Donghyuck took it. _Thank you for being my dream,_ Mark thought and if he concentrated enough, he could hear high-trilled laughter echo in his mind.

“Hi, Donghyuck, my name is Mark. It’s really nice to meet you.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [check out this amazing fanart of tdc!mark meeting tstb!mark!](http://twitter.com/seodamnfine/status/1173335944839270401?s=20)   
>    
>  [twitter](http://twitter.com/taeyongseo)   
>  [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/taeyongseo)   
>  [the official tdc playlist](http://open.spotify.com/playlist/3YEKeV2un8uCm32Zu3jSDS?si=Mwks7_9_RMCAGrRcuQRn_g)


	9. Acquainted

Mark breathed in deeply as soon as he had stepped out of the hospital doors. The car park was still as deserted as it had been when he had arrived and he didn’t hesitate to make a beeline for Ten’s car. If he didn’t get home before Ten and Taeyong woke up, he’d be in deep shit. He was pretty sure once Taeyong had slept more than three hours, he was eager to ground Mark as it was.

He cranked up the heating as he steered the car onto the street. Under different circumstances, he might have been worried that the hot air would make him drowsy behind the wheel, but despite the day he’d had, he found himself more awake than he had felt in a long time. If he focussed enough, he could envision Donghyuck’s face in the patches of dark between the street lights.

He thought of Donghyuck’s smile, drowsy from all the medication in his blood but beautiful all the same. Despite the tubes and harsh lighting, Donghyuck had been beautiful in real life, just as beautiful in front of Mark’s eyes as he had been in his dreams and Mark felt himself smile, blinking rapidly as he tightened his grip around the steering wheel.

It was easy to think about how content Donghyuck had seemed, held tightly in Johnny’s arms and basking in the attention his father had given him, that Mark had given him in the precious minutes before the nurse had come in and Mark had fled before she could ask him what he was doing there. It was much easier to think about how happy Donghyuck had seemed to be alive than to think about the lack of recognition in his eyes whenever his gaze had brushed Mark.

It hadn’t been often, at times Mark had felt more like a ghost than the third person in the room, but a part of him was glad about that. Donghyuck didn’t know him and Mark would have hated to frighten him with how unfamiliar he was. Maybe, Mark figured, if Donghyuck’s meds were strong enough, then Mark would become nothing more but an afterthought to him. A strange boy from an even stranger dream.

He stayed inside the car for a little while after he had parked. He breathed in the scent of citrus air freshener and willed the scent of hospital to leave his clothes. He basked in the comfort of the leather seats and dragged his fingers along the steering wheel. Eventually, he wiped away the tears that had escaped his eyes and left the car. A peek at the second-floor windows told him that he had gotten lucky. Taeyong’s window was just as dark as it had been before Mark had left.

He couldn’t help the dread he felt when he looked at his own window, thought of the bed that was waiting for him behind it. He wondered what he would dream of when he slept. In the hospital, he hadn’t dreamt at all, but Mark refused to believe that it would stay that way. He knew that his dreams would never again mean to him what they once did, but he still hoped to remember them. He didn’t think he would have been able to carry on if wouldn’t be able to remember.

*

He spent the rest of his weekend dozing on the couch in the living room, rewatching the entire Indiana Jones saga with Ten and Taeyong until it was time for Ten to leave on Saturday morning. Ten suggested, half-jokingly and half-not, that he might as well quit his job and stay if his partners at the law firm were riding his ass this hard on a Saturday.

“I’m sure there’s got to be some lovely old ladies’ who’ll want to sue the government for not paying them their pension. You could make a class-action lawsuit out of it.”

“You’re a corporate lawyer and we’ll be fine,” Taeyong reassured him, not for the first time, before he gently shoved Ten into his car.

 _Call me,_ Ten mouthed through the driver-side window before he finally pulled out of the driveway. Mark wrapped his arms around Taeyong from behind, waving for him while Taeyong pretended to not be sad about Ten leaving.

“You know he’s going to be back on our doorstep by the end next week, right?”

“I know. Yukhei already called me.” Taeyong sighed before he threw his arm around Mark’s shoulder and lead them back into the house.

While Taeyong puttered around the kitchen, whipping them up some breakfast, Mark pushed the first DVD of their Star Wars collection into the player. He was ready to spent the rest of his weekend exactly like he had spent the first half, holed up on the couch with Taeyong pretending that Taeyong wasn’t sad about being Ten-less again and Mark pretending he hadn’t gotten his heart broken by a boy who didn’t even remember his name. Maybe never had known it in the first place.

But Mark was fine. He would be just fine. He had saved Donghyuck’s life, and that was all that mattered. It was no good chasing after a dream now that he had woken up.

At least, that was what Mark told himself as he made his way down to the kitchen on Monday morning. Taeyong seemed a lot more lively than he had been all weekend and Mark didn’t have to ask why when Taeyong looked up from the eggs he had been frying and Mark saw that he had blow-dried his hair.

“Johnny’s coming over?” he asked as he sat down on the kitchen table.

“In an hour. He said he’s got an errand to run first, but he’ll be over right after.”

Mark studied the private, giddy smile on his brother’s face before he took in a deep breath. It was easier than he had expected it to be, letting go. “Well, then I say go get ‘em, tiger.”

Taeyong looked at him in surprise and Mark smiled. He was thankful when the doorbell rang before Taeyong could do something as embarrassing as walk over and hug him. Taeyong still looked like he wanted to, so Mark hurried out of the kitchen. He opened the front door, fully ready to shoot Johnny judgemental looks over the breakfast table for being eagerly early, but any words that he might have had got stuck in his throat.

“Hello.”

Mark couldn’t help but stare.

Much like Haechan had been in his dream, Donghyuck wasn’t much smaller than him in real life, but he was absolutely swimming in the sweatshirt he was wearing. The hood covered most of his silver hair, pushing the outgrown strands of his fringe into his eyes while the sleeves were long enough to hang over his hands. It hid him away in plain sight.

The hem of the sweatshirt nearly reached down to the bulky cast around his leg and Mark could tell by the way Donghyuck was clutching the crutch under his arm that his broken leg was giving him pain. The distance between their houses was less than a hundred metres, but with a broken leg the walk must have been strenuous. Mark realised belatedly that he was staring with his mouth open and quickly snapped it shut.

“Uhm.” Mark cleared his throat. “Hi?”

Something ignited in Donghyuck’s gaze, the prior timidity giving way to something much bolder. His voice was awfully polite as he held out his hand. “I’m Donghyuck.”

 _I know,_ Mark wanted to say, but swallowed down the words before they could burn his tongue. Donghyuck was polite because he didn't know him. That hadn’t changed, Mark could tell by the lack of recognition in Donghyuck’s eyes.

Mark convinced himself that it didn’t hurt, that Donghyuck was just a boy standing on his doorstep. That he was as strange to Mark as Mark was to him.

“I’m Mark,” he managed and trailed his fingertips along Donghyuck’s palm in a weak imitation of a handshake. He couldn’t bring himself to grab onto Donghyuck’s hand properly, hold it for even a moment. Donghyuck’s skin was warm. “Mark Lee.”

"I know." Donghyuck’s gaze followed Mark’s hand and when he looked up, his eyes were alight with something that almost reminded Mark of glee. “You were there.”

“You—do you remember me?” Mark felt his stomach churn, but he had to ask. He had to know, even if he was scared of the answer.

“I don’t remember _you,_ but my dad told me you were there in the hospital when I woke up. That was you, right?”

Mark swallowed the disappointment rising in his throat. “Yeah.”  

“It’s all blurry to me.” Donghyuck frowned as he gestured towards his leg. “Lots of pain meds, but Dad told me who you are.”

Mark wondered how much Johnny had told Donghyuck. How much Donghyuck knew about him, and what.

“Only good things, I hope.”

Donghyuck nodded lightly, an impish smile tugging at his lips as he lifted a hand to his hair. Mark wondered whether it was normal to be enthralled by the way someone pushed the hair out of their eyes.

“He said that you saved my life.”

Donghyuck’s gaze was intense and Mark couldn’t help but look for the eclipse in his eyes. He found the sun instead.

 _He’s bright,_ Jeno had said and Mark found himself agreeing. He hadn’t been prepared for just how bright Donghyuck was, how _present_ and it made Mark’s heart beat erratically in his chest. He had spent such a long time searching for Donghyuck that Mark had never thought about what he was supposed to do now that they were standing in front of each other. But then, he figured, Haechan had been his oasis. The calm in his dream. The place without anger and fear. Mark wouldn’t start feeling either of these feelings now, not when he had found Donghyuck. Not when Donghyuck was still alive because of Mark _and they were standing in front of each other._ This was his reality now.

Donghyuck was his reality now.

“I did.”

Donghyuck held his gaze for a moment longer and Mark noted how the other boy observed him. Donghyuck wasn't subtle in the once-over he gave Mark and Mark wasn't subtle in the way he instinctively straightened out his posture. It made Donghyuck smile, his eyes flickering with thinly-veiled curiosity, but the question that left his lips was not the one Mark had expected.

“Actually, I’m here because my dad sent me over to ask whether you’d want a ride to school? He has to drive me anyways because of my leg, so he thought it would make sense if we just took you with.”

Donghyuck did a really good job of pretending to not be embarrassed by his dad’s offer and suddenly Mark found it easier to breathe, easier to smile. As boldly as he had introduced himself, Donghyuck was terrible at pretending to be unbothered and Mark loved that about him already.  

“And not take the bus?” Mark feigned a scandalised expression before he allowed himself a grin, let it soften on his face when he saw the way Donghyuck’s eyes caught on his mouth. “That would be great, actually. Can you wait a minute?”

Donghyuck nodded, the motion causing his fringe to fall back into his eyes and Mark smiled at him once more before leaving the door ajar and sprinting up to his room. He packed his bag quicker than he ever had in his life, checked that he didn’t have toothpaste smudged anywhere on his face before he rushed back downstairs two steps at a time.

There was this irrational fear inside him that Donghyuck would be gone if Mark didn’t return to him quickly enough, but he still forced himself to make a detour to the kitchen. He could get away with skipping breakfast, but Taeyong would skin him alive if he didn’t take his lunch with him either. So Mark snatched up the paper bag waiting on the counter for him and smacked a kiss to his Taeyong’s cheek in goodbye.

“Johnny and Donghyuck are giving me a ride to school. I’ll see you tonight. Have a good shift, bro! I love you!”

Taeyong let out a confused noise past the abundance of fried egg in his mouth, but Mark was already out the door.

His heartbeat calmed considerably when he found Donghyuck waiting for him right where he had left him and Mark grinned at him. Donghyuck matched his grin before he turned to look at his own house, trailed the distance between with his eyes. A tiny crease appeared between his eyebrows and the grip he had on his crutch tightened.

“This is going to suck.” Mark was about to offer his help, when determination took over Donghyuck’s expression and he pushed his crutch into Mark’s chest. “Can you hold that for a moment?”

Mark grabbed onto the crutch before it could clatter to the ground and watched as Donghyuck hobbled over to the railing that framed the front porch steps of his house. He took the stairs one at a time, setting down his healthy foot first before he pulled the clunky boot cast after.

Following after him, Mark matched his tempo and let out an inaudible sigh of relief once Donghyuck had it made it to the bottom of the stairs without hurting himself. Mark forced himself not to hover like a concerned mother hen—he was pretty sure Donghyuck wouldn’t have been a fan of that—and hurried to hand Donghyuck back his crutch. Donghyuck took it gratefully.

Together, they crossed the street.

Johnny emerged from the front door of the Seo home just as Mark and Donghyuck reached the drive way, a broad smile lighting up his face as he spotted Mark. “Oh, hi, Mark!”

“Hey, Johnny.” Mark willingly stepped into the hug Johnny offered him. He tried not to yield under the well-intended pats on his back that nearly sent him to his knees.

“It’s so good to see you, buddy. Did you make it through the weekend okay?”

“Just fine.” Mark smiled. “Yong and I basically watched TV all day. It was good.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Johnny briefly glanced at the kitchen window of Mark’s house before he looked back at him. “I’m really sorry. I meant to stop by and check in on the both of you, but with Hyuck—”

“Dad, stop.” Donghyuck whined. “It’s so embarrassing when you tell everyone how much of an invalid I am!”

“I think the crutch and boot cast are already a bit of a dead giveaway, Hyuckie.”

Donghyuck huffed, punching his father in the arm.

Johnny mimicked being fatally wounded by the hit, which only lead to Donghyuck looking even more annoyed as he hobbled past his father and towards the passenger door of their truck. He got the door open just fine, but stopped short when he realised there was no way he would be able to get up on the passenger seat. His eyes were wide when he looked back at Johnny and Johnny smiled.

He walked over, exaggerated rolling up his sleeves and even Mark had to chuckle as Donghyuck rolled his eyes. Nonetheless, Donghyuck went pliantly when Johnny lifted him onto the passenger seat. He pretended to reject his father’s care, but grabbed onto Johnny’s hand while he insisted on buckling Donghyuck in, not letting go even when Johnny tried to pull away. A fond smile appeared on Johnny’s face as Donghyuck opened his arms, jutting his bottom lip out and Johnny was quick to pull him into a gentle hug.

“It’s fine, buddy,” Mark could hear Johnny whisper into his son’s hair. “I got you.”

Mark averted his eyes when he heard Donghyuck grumble, “I hate this, Dad. I hate not being able to do it on my own.”

“I know, but that’s not what we’re focussing on, okay? We’re focussing on the good things, like you having survived and—” Johnny cleared his throat and Mark decided that it was dire time for him to move, so he made a beeline for the back door on the other side of the truck.

“Please, don’t cry again, Dad. That would be really embarrassing and Mark might not want to ride with us anymore.”

“Yes, that would be terrible, wouldn’t it? After you’ve spent all weekend trying to come with a plan to get him to catch a ride with us.”

“Dad!”

Mark could feel both Donghyuck and Johnny look at him through the back side window and he was eternally grateful for the fact that the glass was tinted, effectively hiding the blush that spread on his cheeks. It made his head spin, the idea that Donghyuck had sought him out because he had wanted to talk to him.

He pretended to be fumbling with the handle of the car door until he felt that his face had returned to its normal colour and he could climb onto the back seat without giving away that he had overheard what Johnny had said. Donghyuck’s backpack was sitting in the middle of the backseat and Mark smiled at the small teddy bear charm that was attached to the zipper.  

Once Johnny had slid onto the driver’s seat, the engine of the truck came to life with a roar and Donghyuck turned around in his seat. Mark stopped stroking the fuzzy head of the teddy bear charm.

“Mark,” Donghyuck said, a certain gravity to his voice that made Mark’s eyes widen.

He swallowed. “Yeah?”

Donghyuck slowly raised his hand and showed Mark the screen of his phone. On it, his music app was open. “Do you like musicals?”

Mark had the feeling that the answer to this question would be vital to the further development of their relationship. A quick glance in the rear-view mirror affirmed his suspicion. Much like Donghyuck, Johnny was watching him with an expectant look, his lips twitching with amusement before he averted his eyes back to the road.

Mark cleared his throat. “I’ve seen a couple? My best friend’s twin is really into them and he would always drag Lucas and I out to see shows at Winter Garden.”

Donghyuck’s phone clattered onto the middle console when it slipped from his fingers. “You’ve been to Broadway?”

Mark shrugged. “I’m from New York.”

Donghyuck stared at him for a moment longer before he picked his phone back up. He tapped around on it before he looked back up at Mark, his eyes were filled with determination. “I’m going to be there one day. On Broadway. I’m going to become a musical star.”

Mark smiled. He could see it. Donghyuck was so bright. “I don’t doubt it.”

It seemed to have been the right thing to say, because Donghyuck looked pleased as he rested his cheek against the back rest. “Have you ever seen Spring Awakening?

“That’s Hyuckie’s favourite,” Johnny supplied without taking his eyes off the road.

Mark shook his head. “Show me something from it?”

Donghyuck’s face lit up at the suggestion and they spent the rest of the car ride listening to the playlist of his favourite songs. Donghyuck wasn’t ashamed to sing along and if Mark had had his voice, he wouldn’t have been either. Donghyuck’s voice was beautiful, higher than his normal tone and so clear-cut Mark found himself enraptured. Haechan had never sung for him and that made hearing Donghyuck sing all the more special. It made him different.

 _I might love you, too,_ Mark thought.

Donghyuck looked up just when he had the thought, their eyes meeting in the rear-view mirror and Mark felt his heart swell in his chest at the way Donghyuck’s eyes crinkled with the force of the laughter that bubbled out of him. Mark joined in.

If this was his reality, then he had no reason to complain at all.

They reached the school half an hour before classes were about to start. Johnny parked the car in the red, as close to the doors as he could and pumped the handbrake. Upon Johnny’s request, Mark picked Donghyuck’s backpack up along with his own when he slid out of the car. Johnny lifted Donghyuck out of his seat the same way he had helped him in, fuzzing over him until Donghyuck used his crutch to push him away.

“Have a good day at school!” Johnny called after them when Donghyuck grabbed Mark by the arm and hobbled them away as quickly as he could.

“I am so sorry about my dad,” Donghyuck said as he steered them towards the main building. “He’s been in full helicopter mode ever since we got home from the hospital.”  

“Don’t worry.” Mark kept his pace much slower than usual, consciously let Donghyuck walk a little in front of him so Donghyuck didn’t feel as if he was holding Mark up. “I think your dad’s great. He’s been really nice to my brother and I ever since we moved in.”

“What’s your brother like?”

Mark took a moment to think about the question, roaming their surroundings with his eyes. He was glad that they were early enough for the halls to still be empty. Based on his own experience during the past week, he could already tell that people were bound to stare once they caught wind of Donghyuck having returned from the missing-presumed-dead. Mark wanted to shield him, judge them for it but he couldn’t count himself out of that equation. Now that he was by Donghyuck’s side, Mark found it near-impossible to look away.

“Taeyong’s great,” he settled on eventually. “He’s the strongest person I know. It’s been just us since I was twelve, but he’s never made me feel like I was a burden, or that there was something missing from my life. At times it was shitty not having parents, but I’ve always had Taeyong, so I was okay.”

“I’m glad for you. I’m the same with my dad.” In the muted sunlight filtering in through the windows, Donghyuck’s eyes seemed to glow and the love he held for his father was evident in his expression. Mark could tell that Donghyuck cared a lot about Johnny, despite the fact that he liked to pretend he was embarrassed by his father’s overbearing affection. “I’m a teen pregnancy baby. My parents were only sixteen when they had me and then my mom up and left, so Dad had to raise me on his own. He says it wasn’t bad, but I know from Uncle Doie that it was super hard for him, especially because my grandparents were mad at him too and wouldn’t help.”  

Mark could imagine it, baby Donghyuck crying in his father’s arms while a teenaged Johnny tried his hardest to console him, already stressed out by a lack of sleep and missing support system. Mark found his heart hurting at the thought. He had done the math, of course, with Johnny being in his early thirties there had to be some kind of explanation for the small number of years between them, but he wished that Johnny wouldn’t have had to do it all on his own, that Donghyuck would have had a mom.

“Are you ever angry? At your mom, for leaving?” Mark was careful to let none of the sympathy he felt show on his face. He knew Donghyuck didn’t want any.

Donghyuck shrugged. “I don’t miss her or anything. She was never there, so it’s not like she left a hole in my life. When I was little, I hated her for walking out on us, but now I just love my dad more. I don’t think…”

For a moment, it looked like Donghyuck wanted to say more and Mark thought of the diary entry he had read, the unanswered text messages on Johnny’s phone, but then Donghyuck didn’t pick up his sentence where he had left off and so Mark didn’t pry. He felt special already that Donghyuck had shared with him as much as he had.

They arrived at the stairs that lead to the second floor and Mark held Donghyuck’s crutch for him while Donghyuck rummaged around in his backpack. Eventually, he pulled out his phone and frowned at the e-mail he was looking at.  

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked.

Donghyuck grunted, locking his phone before shoving it back into his bag. “Good ol’ Qian is giving me a key for the elevator because of my leg.” A mirthless smile made its way onto his face as he met Mark’s eyes. “Alas, I have to pick it up at the administrative office the which is—”

“—on the second floor.”

Donghyuck nodded, looking dejected as he let his eyes trail up the stairs in front of them. “This is going to take ages.”

Donghyuck didn’t mention that it would also hurt and Mark smiled.

“Hop on.”

Donghyuck’s eyes widened as he looked at him. “What?”

Mark shrugged, depositing his backpack at the bottom of the stairs. He knew the students at Hell High were too well-off to steal it and if someone did, Mark hoped they enjoyed homemade kimbap.He took Donghyuck’s crutch from him before he turned his back to him and bend his knees.

“Hop on. I’m going to carry you.”

“Are you sure?”

Mark looked over his shoulder to smile at him. “You gave me a ride to school, now I’m giving you a ride upstairs. Sounds fair, no?”

Donghyuck bit his lip before he nodded and Mark faced forward again. He held his breath as he felt Donghyuck step closer to him. A tentative hand touched the small of his back before Donghyuck was sliding his arms over his shoulder, crossing them in front of Mark’s neck and then he was leaning his weight on Mark’s back. Mark handed him back his crutch to hold before he grabbed onto Donghyuck’s thighs and lifted them both upright. Donghyuck giggled as he was hoisted into the air and Mark thought that getting to hear that sound was worth the trouble alone.

Carrying Donghyuck, Mark figured, was like carrying a small sun. The heat of Donghyuck’s body was burning Mark’s skin through both of their clothes and Mark was grateful for it. He would never get tired of feeling how warm Donghyuck was, how alive and real.

“Ready?” he asked as he set his foot onto the first step.

Donghyuck’s hair tickled his cheek as he rested his chin on Mark’s shoulder and Mark could feel him smile. “Ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He might love him, too.
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/taeyongseo)   
>  [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/taeyongseo)   
>  [the official tdc playlist](http://open.spotify.com/playlist/3YEKeV2un8uCm32Zu3jSDS?si=Mwks7_9_RMCAGrRcuQRn_g)   
>  [fanart](http://twitter.com/seodamnfine/status/1173335944839270401?s=20)   
> 


	10. All That We See or Seem

Mark watched the way Donghyuck slapped at Chenle’s hands as the other boy tried to steal a handful of chips from his bag. Donghyuck threw his head back as he laughed, the silver strands of his hair falling away from his forehead, and Chenle’s shrieks carried over the entire length of the basketball court. Donghyuck pulled him into a headlock. Jisung on Chenle’s other side made a valiant effort to free Chenle and was eventually aided by Jaemin pulling Donghyuck back against his chest. Donghyuck went pliantly, but picked up his crutch to protect his chips from any further robbery. It made Chenle giggle and even Jisung’s cheeks turned pink as he smiled.

Mark found himself grinning along with them. Even if he was at the other end of the basketball court, he could still feel the happiness that radiated from Donghyuck and his friends. Their relief at having Donghyuck back had turned into overjoy the longer they’d been sat with their backs against the mesh net fence that afternoon and Mark thought that Donghyuck looked best like this, alive and surrounded by people that loved him. His skin seemed to glow in the light of the sunset behind them, the low light softening all the hard edges that a week of near-starvation had left on his body. Like this, Mark felt like maybe being in love with someone who didn’t recognise him wasn’t so bad.

The basketball hit him right in the stomach, causing him to wheeze as he doubled over.

“Oh, _scheiße,_ I’m so sorry!”

Mark gasped at the shock of pain, blinking tears out of his eyes as he managed to suck a little bit of air back into his lungs.

“Mark, are you okay?” Jeno ran over and Mark desperately wished that he hadn’t. It would draw attention to his mishap and that was the last thing he wanted. He didn’t want anyone to worry about him.

“I’m fine,” he coughed out and let Yangyang pull him back upright.

 “I thought you’d seen it coming, dude. I’m really sorry.”

Mark shook his head, catching onto the arm Yangyang had slung around his middle in the weak imitation of a Heimlich maneuver. He patted younger’s hand, successfully prompting him to let go.

“Don’t worry about it. It was my fault, I got distracted.”

“Mark! Are you okay?”

Mark felt his stomach sink when he saw that Donghyuck had pulled himself onto his feet, using the mesh net fence behind him to pull himself up. He was hobbling over as quickly as his broken leg allowed him, Jaemin catching onto his arm midway to slink it over his shoulder as he helped him walk.

Donghyuck pushed away from Jaemin as soon as he had made it to their small circle. Mark was too concerned with making sure Donghyuck didn’t fall to mind the hands Donghyuck pushed against his midriff, right into the spot where he could already feel a bruise forming. He still winced, though, and it made Donghyuck look up at him with wide, worried eyes.

“Are you okay?” he repeated, sounding softer than Mark had ever heard him speak, and Mark nodded, feeling embarrassed. “Yeah, it was my fault. I didn’t look where I was going—hey!”

Mark yelped when Donghyuck took a step away from him to flick his forehead.

“You’re an idiot, Mark Lee!“ Donghyuck huffed, his gaze darkening when his eyes fell onto Yangyang. “And you, watch where you’re throwing next time!”

Yangyang’s eyes widened. “ _Alter,_ I already said sorry!”

Donghyuck looked like he wanted to say more, but then his phone buzzed in his pocket and he was distracted. While Donghyuck hobbled a step backwards to take the call, Jaemin used that opportunity to move forward and pat Mark down himself.

Mark waved his fussing off with a smile, feeling his heart open when Jaemin grinned back. Their friendship was different now than it had been before . Mark had known when he had left New York that he would never again find friends that were as dear to him as Renjun and Lucas, but in that moment he thought that if anyone could ease the hole they had left, it might have been Jaemin. He saw his own feelings mirrored in Jaemin’s eyes when Jaemin squeezed his hand.

Around Jaemin’s wrist, there were three friendship bracelets; one made of neon green string, one of neon orange and another one of neon yellow.

“Mark,” Donghyuck’s voice stole his attention. When he looked over Jaemin’s shoulder, Donghyuck was waving his phone. “Dad’s here to pick us up.”

“Johnny’s driving you home?” Jaemin pouted as he hit Mark in the arm. “And here I thought you’d catch a ride home with my brother and I.”

Before Mark could answer, Jeno shouldered through them, mumbling out an “excuse me” when he caused Mark to stumble. Jeno bent down to snatch up the basketball that had rolled to a stop at Yangyang’s feet and Mark turned his head quickly enough to see Donghyuck frown at Jeno, his eyes flashing with something that was both annoyed and as close to danger as Mark had ever seen him look. For a moment, Mark thought that Donghyuck might call out to Jeno, but then Donghyuck met Mark’s eyes and his expression softened again.  

“Ready?” he asked gently and Mark nodded, feeling a tingle of excitement. “Let’s go.”

He loved seeing Donghyuck with his friends, but there was also a part of him that was selfish. A part of him that wanted to be alone with Donghyuck and learn more, see more than he could when there were other people around.

They said their goodbyes and Mark was relieved to find no sign of hostility in Jeno’s gaze as he pulled Mark into a quick hug. Together, they joined Yangyang in his attempt to free Donghyuck from Jaemin’s embrace and Mark thought that he could deal with being jostled around a bit if it helped Jeno work through his feelings. Whatever those were.

After Jaemin had finally let go of him, Mark helped Donghyuck hobble back to the fence where they had all left their bags. He held onto both of their backpacks while Donghyuck forced Jisung and Chenle into a hug that ended with a resounding cheek kiss for each of them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Donghyuck told Chenle while Jisung escaped his arms to hide behind Jaemin’s back.

Chenle grinned, waving them both goodbye before he ran after his best friend.  

Mark tactfully pretended not to see the quiet breath of relief Donghyuck let out once they had made it into the stairwell, shielded from everyone’s eyes. He had noticed throughout the day how quick Donghyuck was to tire out and how he had then pretended he wasn’t moving along by the skin of his teeth.

“Are you okay?” Mark asked and he could see the same fight in Donghyuck’s eyes.

He was eternally grateful when Donghyuck gave up and didn’t pretend with him. “I’m fine, I’m just a little tired. I love my friends, they’re just…”

“…a lot?”

Donghyuck nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t want them to worry.” Quieter, he added, “I already worried everyone so much.”

Mark had noticed that, too, throughout the day. How Donghyuck had flinched every time someone had congratulated him on being back, the flash of anguish in his eyes before he had managed to pull himself together and smile.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Mark was glad when he could coax Donghyuck to lean on him, all under the guise of having to carry him down the stairs. “It sounds harsh, but you nearly died. You’re allowed to recover in your own time. It sucks to be the one holding people back, but I know none of your friends mind carrying you the rest of the way. I don’t.”

“My saviour.” The words came out softer than Donghyuck had probably intended.

At this point, Mark knew Donghyuck well enough to know that about ninety percent of the things he said were a joke, quick-witted banter to mask his true feelings, but the way Donghyuck had said those words didn’t make them sound like a joke at all.

“Always.” Mark didn’t bother masking the promise in his words. “I’ll always be there to save you.”

Donghyuck’s face pressed into his shoulder, a quiet noise escaping his throat that Mark graciously pretended not to hear. It was enough of an answer for Mark. He was happy as long as Donghyuck knew that Mark would be there for him, as long as they were holding onto each other.

They arrived at the bottom of the stairs and Mark helped Donghyuck switch back to his crutch before he held the door open for them. Johnny was already waiting for them in the middle of the car park, the engine of his truck running as he waited leaning against the hood of the car. Where he had been anxiously fiddling with the compartments of his tool belt, his shoulders visibly relaxed as soon as he saw Donghyuck still in one piece.

“That’s not very environmentally friendly, Dad,” Donghyuck scolded his father as soon as they had made their way over. “You could have just shut off the engine while waiting. Gasoline isn’t a renewable resource, you know? I know you need the truck for work, but you could at least do your part. Did you know—”

Donghyuck continued his rant about the greater ecological implications of Johnny’s parking behaviour while the man lifted him onto the passenger seat, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead before Donghyuck could swat him away. Mark met Johnny’s eyes in the rear-view mirror as soon as they had all settled into their seats and Johnny smiled at him, shrugging in a “what can you do” kind of manner before he promised Donghyuck that he would think about getting himself a bicycle.

 “I have client in about fifteen minutes,” Johnny said as they pulled into their street, “so I can only drop you off. Will you be okay, Hyuckie?”

“Don’t worry, Dad! Mark can help me inside, right?”

“Oh, definitely.” Mark jumped at the chance of prolonging his time with Donghyuck, if only for a couple of minutes.

“Thank you. That’s really kind, Mark.”

Johnny parked the car on the curb and Mark hurried to get out and around to the passenger side. By the time he had made it around the car, Donghyuck was already waiting for him with his door open, his arms outstretched and a broad grin on his face.

Mark snorted before letting Donghyuck wrap his arms around his neck and lifting him off his seat. Donghyuck clung onto him like a koala and Mark would have carried him all the way into the house like this, savouring the warm press of Donghyuck’s body against his own, but Johnny was right there watching them and Mark rather not see the amusement on his face turn into worry.

So Mark set Donghyuck down as gently as he could, searching Donghyuck’s face for any signs of discomfort when Donghyuck grunted as his foot hit the pavement.

Donghyuck waved him off, hopping on one leg to take the crutch Johnny had pulled from the backseat for him. “Bye, Dad, thanks for saving us from the stinky bus!”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Bye, Hyuckie. Thank you again, Mark!”

“No problem!” Mark made sure he had both of their bags before he pushed the passenger door shut.

Johnny honked his horn before he drove away and Donghyuck whined in embarrassment before he lead the way to the front door of his house. Mark followed him dutifully, steadying Donghyuck from behind when the other boy struggled to hold onto his crutch and fiddle with his keys at the same time.

To his surprise, Donghyuck leaned back against him, craning his neck to meet Mark’s eyes. “Hey, Mark? Do you want to stay over for a bit? I wanted to make spaghetti for dinner and you can help me make the sauce.”

Mark looked down at him, studied the way the fading sunlight caught in Donghyuck’s eyes.  “I’d love to.”

Donghyuck beamed and pushed himself off of Mark’s chest to finally push the front door open.

It was different, seeing the inside of Donghyuck’s home in the daylight. The memory of how he had trespassed the last time made Mark feel guilty, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it as he watched Donghyuck shake off his jacket and hang it on the animal-shaped coat hangers that were mounted to the wall next to the door. Whatever he had done to get to this moment, where Donghyuck was alive in front of him, just going through the motions of his daily routine, it had all been worth it.

Mark deposited their bags and his own jacket on the small bench below the coat hangers before he followed Donghyuck into the kitchen. He purposefully waited for Donghyuck to lead the way. He’d rather not let Donghyuck know how familiar he was with the layout of his house already.

“I feel like I should give you a fair warning, I’m terrible in the kitchen.”

“Right,” Donghyuck’s grin was brilliant as he opened the pantry above the sink and peered inside. “Jeno told me you’re a cooking hazard.”

Mark felt his teeth dig into his bottom lip. “I guess he did.” He cleared his throat. “Are you close to him?”

Donghyuck halted in his movements, turning his head to meet Mark’s eyes. The expression on his face was near unreadable as he wet his lips. “Jeno is my best friend, and so is Jaemin. They both mean the world to me.”

Mark could tell that he was treading a fine line, even if he didn’t know what it defined, and so he backtracked. Instead of outright asking the underlying question in his words, he plastered an easy grin onto his face. “Yeah, they’re great. Jaemin helped me so much when I first got here. Principal Qian assigned him to give me the intro tour during my first day and I haven’t been able to get rid off him since.”

“Jaemin likes you a lot.” Donghyuck averted his eyes to the bag of pasta in his hands, flipping it over to read the expiration date on the back. “If I didn’t know that he was madly in love with Jeno, I’d be jealous.”  

Mark felt his hands slip where he had been leaning back against the kitchen counter, his knees nearly giving out underneath him before he caught himself. “You know about Jeno and Jaemin?”

“Oh, please.” Donghyuck scoffed, bypassing Mark as he hobbled over to the fridge. “You’ve been here for ten days and know about it. Imagine witnessing them pine after each other for ten years.”

“Yeah, but—” Mark himself didn’t know where he was going with his sentence. Of course, Donghyuck knew about his best friends’ feelings. “Do you think they have a chance?”

Donghyuck turned his head to look at him and Mark was surprised by the sudden, gentle undertone to his voice when he said, “I don’t know. I used to just want to bang their heads together, tell them that they’re cowards and that Jaemin please stop glaring at me whenever Jeno pays me an ounce more attention than him, but now…”

“…now?”

Donghyuck shrugged and Mark marvelled at the pink blooming on his cheeks. “Now I think I get what it feels like to be scared of your own feelings.”

Donghyuck turned back towards the fridge, his face disappearing in the middle compartment, and Mark felt his mouth go dry. Before he had the chance to say something, before his brain even had to come up with a possible interpretation of Donghyuck’s words, the silence in the room was broken by the sharp rasp of knuckles against the front door.

Donghyuck pulled his head out of the fridge, his cheeks burning red from the cold. “That’s probably Uncle Sicheng. He said he’d come by to check up on me. Can you get the door? If I try, he might be gone by the time I get there.”

“Sure.” A part of Mark was thankful for the short reprieve. “Whatever you need.”

Donghyuck smiled at him, and Mark thought that he didn’t need a reprieve after all, but there was still someone at the door and so he hurried out of the kitchen. He made sure that his own cheeks weren’t burning anymore before he pried the front door open.

It wasn’t Sicheng that stood on the other side.

“Hello?” Mark asked carefully.

He hadn’t been in Hell for long, but he could tell that the woman standing on the front porch wasn’t from around here. Her perfectly manicured hands were clutching a key from the same car rental company that Ten had used and her thick woollen coat was just a tad too warm for the mild autumn weather.

“Donghyuck?” she asked, and Mark could admit that she was beautiful when her heart-shaped lips pulled into a smile.

Mark shook his head. “No, I’m Mark. Donghyuck’s inside. Can I help you?”

The woman’s smile withered as quickly as it had bloomed and Mark felt something inside his chest pull taut. She composed herself just before Mark could try to shut the door in her face.

“I’m here to talk to Donghyuck. Can I come inside?”

Mark wanted to tell her no, wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t let her and her thin smile anywhere near Donghyuck, but then he felt the gentle press of a hand against his back and he automatically opened the door wider when he turned around.

“Who is it, Mark?” Donghyuck asked, but the fear in his eyes told Mark that he already knew.

They both did. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, even if Mark only had eleven unanswered texts and a diary entry to piece it together.

“Donghyuck?” the woman asked again and this time her face lit up when Donghyuck nodded curtly. “Donghyuck, I’ve been trying to reach you. I’m—”

“I know,” Donghyuck cut her off. Mark found a sick kind of satisfaction in the way the woman’s smile faltered at the sharpness in Donghyuck’s tone. “I got your letter.”

“Oh.” She rearranged the collar of her coat. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. I thought your father might’ve thrown it away before it reached you.”

Donghyuck shifted his weight and Mark was quick to steady him when Donghyuck’s face contorted in pain as he unintentionally put weight on his broken leg.

“Maybe we should take this inside?” Mark suggested. “So you can sit?”

“I’d like that,” the woman said and Mark swallowed the _I wasn’t talking to you_ that lay on top of his tongue.

“It’s your decision,” Mark told Donghyuck, hoping that his expression showed that he was still fully ready to shut the door in the woman’s face and pretend she had never been there at all.

Donghyuck held his gaze for a long time before he looked over Mark’s shoulder, his expression hardening. To Mark’s surprise, he gave in. “Okay. Let’s sit down and talk, then.”

Donghyuck turned around, using the wall as a crutch as he hobbled off in the direction of the living room and Mark was torn between following after him and letting the woman into the house first. In the end, he stayed put, opening the door wide enough so she could pass him.

It was only the flicker of nerves on the woman’s face that made him not kick her out at the last minute. Mark closed the door behind her and watched closely as she took in the inside of the house, her gaze catching on the frames on the walls. Mark didn’t allow her to linger, pushing her forward by clearing his throat.

He overtook her as soon as they had made it into the living room, claiming the spot next to Donghyuck on the couch before she could do so much as even think about sitting next to him. It forced her to take the armchair instead and Mark watched as she took off her coat, gingerly folding it over the arm rest before sitting down.

“Would you like something to drink?” Donghyuck’s voice was overly polite.

Mark withstood the urge to take his hand. He didn’t know what Donghyuck needed from him in that moment, but he was hoping that Donghyuck would ask him when the time came.

The woman smiled, her plum-coloured lips parting. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

Donghyuck nodded, turning his head. “Mark?”

Mark wanted to sigh. “Water?” He glanced at the woman. “You good with that?”

She nodded and Mark pulled himself to his feet, forcing himself to leave even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. But this wasn’t his moment to intrude upon, it wasn’t his mother sitting across from him for the first time in eighteen years and if Donghyuck wanted him to get water for them all, then he would get water for them all.

It didn’t stop him from keeping his ears wide open as he trudged into the kitchen.

“Donghyuck,” the woman said as soon as Mark was out of sight and Mark gritted his teeth.

“I can’t believe that you’re here.”

“I know. I can imagine that you must have many questions right now, and I promise I will answer them all, whatever it is you want to know.”

There was silence for nearly a minute and Mark didn’t breathe as he stared into the cabinet he had opened. It was the wrong one, holding only spices and an unopened pack of rice crackers. He closed it silently.

“I want to know what you are doing here? You never—why did you come now?” 

“I saw in the news that you were missing. You know I was trying to get in contact with you anyways, but when I saw the report I knew I had to come.”

“You want to tell me that my missing person’s poster travelled all the way up to Canada?”

“That, and your grandparents might have called me.”

Silence again.

This time, it was Donghyuck’s mother who broke it. “I’m sure I must’ve hurt you a lot.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me. I don’t even know you. I know who you’re _supposed_ _to be_ to me, but in reality, I look at your face and see nothing but a stranger. I don’t know you and that’s why you can’t hurt me either.” Mark could imagine Donghyuck’s exact expression as he said this, the way he probably jutted out his chin, eyes steely. “The only one here that you have hurt is my dad.”

Mark opened the next cabinet and was indefinitely thankful when he found an array of mismatched mugs and glasses. He picked the closest three before he walked over to the sink. The faucet turned on with a nudge of his hand and he pressed some of the cold water against his neck before he filled the glasses.

“Right. I’m sure John must have told you a lot about me.”

 “Actually, he didn’t say much at all. I stopped asking about you when I was five, so there was really no reason to keep talking about a woman that didn’t want me.”

Mark downed his own water, leaving the empty glass in the sink before he picked up the other two and walked back into the living room. He could see in the woman’s eyes that his return was unwelcome, but Mark couldn’t have cared less when he saw the way Donghyuck’s shoulders relaxed slighty as he took his water from Mark’s hands.

“That’s not true, Donghyuck.” The woman didn’t spare the glass Mark placed in front of her a single glance. Her eyes were boring into Donghyuck’s face. “I know you probably won’t believe me, but I promise you that I didn’t leave because I didn’t want you. I was just so young and overwhelmed and—”

“And then you ran away.” There was unaltered disdain in Donghyuck’s voice. “Trust me, I learned the hard way that running away is not the way to go.”

“Donghyuck, please—”

“No, I don’t want to hear it. You left. You left and then you never came back. Not when I was five and asked about you, not when I was eight and had to explain to the other kids at school that I didn’t have a mother, not when I was ten and rocked that school play that Uncle Doie made my costume for.

“You missed everything, _Mom_ , my entire life. You weren’t there for any of it and you wouldn’t be here right now if I hadn’t almost died in a hole in the woods, so forgive me if I find it hard to listen to whatever bullshit excuse you’ve come up with so you don’t have to admit to yourself that you’re a _terrible_ person.”

“Donghyuck.” There were tears brimming in the woman’s eyes.

Mark felt no sympathy, not as long as Donghyuck was burning with anger beside him.

“Donghyuckie!”

All three of them flinched at the sudden assault of noise coming from the front door.

“Hyuckie!” the voice continued, lilting, “Where’s my favourite brat?”

Mark watched as his English teacher skipped into the room, the bright smile sliding off of Mr Nakamoto’s face when he realised what he had walked in on. His husband was close behind, the doctor’s eyes widening only minimally before he narrowed them. Johnny was the last to enter, busy typing away on his phone so he was the last to realise.

His phone clattered to the ground when he did.

“What—” Johnny’s eyes slid over Mark, caught on Donghyuck before they landed on the woman and his shock gave way to rage, _“—the heck?”_

“John.” The woman stood up. “Hello.”

When Mark looked back towards the door, Johnny was shaking his head rapidly. “No,” and then louder, “No! What are you even—get out!”

“I’m not leaving, John.” There was a stubborn set to the woman’s jaw that Mark recognised too well from the boy beside him.

“Uh, yes, you are! You have no right to be here!”

“You think you have the right to tell me to leave when I had to learn through the TV that my son went missing?!”

“I said get the fuck out of my house!” Johnny roared, taking a step forward.

In that moment, Mark was ready to pick up Donghyuck and take him anywhere but this room when Yuta moved, pushing Johnny back a step and into his husband’s arms. Sicheng laid a hand on Johnny’s chest, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched the scene unfold.

If Mark hadn’t known what Yuta’s real smile looked like, he might have been fooled by the feigned expression on his face.

“Wendy,” the teacher said. “You need to leave. Right now. You’re not welcome here.”

“That’s not your decision to make.” She looked at Donhgyuck, her expression faltering. “I came here to see my son.”

Donghyuck blinked as the attention of the room shifted onto him and then he met his mother’s gaze. Mark didn’t realise he had been holding his breath until Donghyuck said his name.

“Mark.” Donghyuck’s smile was shaky as he turned his head, away from his mother and away from the adults in the room. It barely concealed the whirlwind of emotions behind his eyes. “Do you want to see my room? I can show you my comic book collection.”

Mark didn’t hesitate. “I love comics.”

He offered Donghyuck his arm and helped him stand up, steadying him when it looked like Donghyuck might crumble to the ground.

“Like we do at school?” he asked and Donghyuck nodded, eternal gratitude in his eyes.

Mark hurried to crouch down and it hurt when Donghyuck grabbed onto his shoulders too tightly, but he didn’t let it deter him. He was quick to lift them both up, making a beeline for the door.  

“I’ll come up in a bit to check on his leg,” Dr Nakamoto said when they passed him and Mark nodded.

Johnny looked like he wanted to stop them, but was held back by Yuta’s hand on his arm and his quiet, “Let them go.”

Mark focussed on nothing but the hallway as he carried them out of the room, focussed on nothing but the steps he was taking as he carried him upstairs, past the picture frames that documented every step of Donghyuck’s life. There were so many of them and Mark couldn’t imagine what it was like to have had the chance to witness them and having given that up.

He set Donghyuck down as soon as they had made it upstairs, leaving Donghyuck to lead the way into his room, still pretending that he didn’t know already. He figured that there would be a moment in time when he could tell Donghyuck about all that he had done to find him, but that day was not today when Donghyuck was already dealing with so much.

“Mark,” Donghyuck said as soon as Mark had closed the door to Donghyuck’s room behind them. The pressed wood did little to block out the sounds of the shouting match that was picking back up downstairs. “I’m sorry.”

Donghyuck’s eyes were wide when Mark turned around to face him, brimming with so much emotion that it threatened to overflow and Mark hurried to join him where Donghyuck had sat down on the edge of his bed. He was eternally grateful when Donghyuck didn’t hesitate to rest his head on Mark’s shoulder.

“It’s okay.” Mark didn’t know what, but it didn’t matter. He was here to make it right. “It will be okay.”

Donghyuck sniffled and Mark knew him well enough to not turn his head and look.

“I lied, Mark. I don’t even own any comic books.”

Mark laughed, because it was better than giving in to the rage that was rising in his chest and he loved Donghyuck, every bright, hurt, absurd millimetre of him. He had known it the first time their eyes had met at the hospital, but the feeling was different now. It was all-encompassing, taking him over as the love he felt turned into anger, turned into sadness and every other emotion that Donghyuck was willing to show him. Mark would share them all.

“That’s okay,” he said as soon as he could breathe again. He felt brave enough to take Donghyuck’s hand and Donghyuck curled further into his side. “It will be okay.”

“I think I hate her.”

Mark was surprised to hear Donghyuck admit it, but he was careful to keep his tone neutral. “Then you hate her.”

“Is it bad that I hate her?”

Mark hummed. “I don’t think you have to like her. She hurt you a lot, and even more so your dad.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Donghyuck lifted his free hand and pressed it against his chest, “with all this. It’s too much. I feel too much.”

“Then we can just be for the moment. We can just be us for the moment, Mark and Donghyuck, in a room without comic books. Sounds okay, right?”

Donghyuck snorted and Mark had never been so happy to hear the other boy make fun of him. “You’re ridiculous, Mark Lee.”

“You smiled, though.”

“My saviour,” Donghyuck mumbled and Mark found it easy to chuckle, easy to hold onto hope when he got to hold Donghyuck.

“I promised you, didn’t I? I’ll always be there to save you.”

*

It was the clanking of glass that caused Mark to wake up, the hushed whisper of voices causing him to stay awake. A regretful glance at his bright phone screen told him that it was shorty after midnight, Donghyuck’s last text waiting for him unanswered in his inbox.

Mark had left the Seo’s house shortly after Sicheng had come up to check on Donghyuck’s leg. The pain medication the doctor had given Donghyuck had included sedative side effects and Donghyuck had dropped off shortly after, leaving Mark to stare at his sleeping face before he realised how weird that was and he had hastily made his exit.

Donghyuck had woken up while Mark had sat in front of the TV with Taeyong and then they had texted back and forth, talking about everything and nothing while Mark pretended not to be worried and Donghyuck pretended not to feel overwhelmed at his mother’s sudden appearance in his life. In the end, they mostly talked about the movies they liked and Mark fell asleep after Donghyuck had told him that he didn’t like vampire movies.

He contemplated staying in bed for a moment, but then he also thought about the time Taeyong had tried to fight off a handsy beggar in Queens with the pointy end off his wrapped sandwich and he forced himself out of bed. He longed for his baseball bat as he snuck downstairs, but he figured that they’d be fine if he could make it to Taeyong’s knife drawer.

“I’m so sorry for coming over so late. I hope I didn’t wake anyone.”

“That’s okay. I wasn’t sleeping yet and Mark’s conked out upstairs.”

Mark let out the breath he had been holding when he saw that the source of the noise that had woken him wasn’t an intruder. At least, not someone uninvited. A part of him was tempted to walk into the kitchen and tell both his brother and Johnny off for waking him, effectively ending whatever was going on between them, but then he figured that if Johnny was in his house at this hour without forewarning him, then at least they were even.

“Thank you for this,” Johnny said as he raised the mug in his hands. He looked comically large, sitting at their small kitchen table.

Taeyong waved him off as he settled into the chair across from him. “It’s nothing. I’m just sorry I can’t offer you anything with an alcohol content. Judging by your texts, you might need it.”

“I wouldn’t say no, but this way is probably better. Coffee at midnight still isn’t as unhealthy as drowning myself in liquor would be. Besides, you make a mean Americano, Taeyong.”

“Thank you, Johnny.” Mark could imagine the blush on his brother’s cheeks. “I’m glad you texted me.”

Johnny hummed in acknowledgement and the two adult men sat in amicable silence for a while. Mark was tempted to slink back upstairs, at ease now that he knew the man in their kitchen was invited, but then Taeyong leaned forward in his seat.  

“You can tell me about it, you know. I’m willing to listen.”

Johnny raised his eyes from his mug and in the low lighting of the kitchen lamp, he looked older and younger than he was at the same time. Johnny looked at Taeyong for a long time before he lowered his eyes back to his mug.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as angry in my life as I was today.” The smile on his face was self-deprecating as he traced the rim of his mug with his index finger. “Even when Donghyuck’s mother left us, it was mostly shock and then I had to take care of Donghyuck and keeping a roof over our head, so there was never really much time to be angry.

“But seeing her today, sitting there in the arm chair I bought and talking to Hyuckie as if she didn’t walk out on him…I was so angry. I don’t even know what kind of things I would have said if your brother wouldn’t have been there. Bless him, for getting Hyuckie out of the room.”

“Mark told me he was over at your house, but he didn’t tell me anything about that.”

Johnny smiled. “That was very nice of him. Her and I screamed at each other for a good half an hour before she eventually left. I told her not to come back, but knowing her she won’t leave for good until she’s gotten Donghyuck to talk to her properly.”

“Do you think he will?”

Johnny shrugged. “I can’t tell. The selfish part of me wants him to shoot her to the moon for what she did, but as his dad my need to see Donghyuck happy will always outweigh everything else. So if he decides that he wants her in his life, there’s little I can do. Knowing my son, anyways.”

There was no pain in Johnny’s smile, only fondness.  

“And you’re doing okay with that? I know your son means everything to you, but this is about you too, Johnny. She didn’t only leave Donghyuck, she left you as well.”

“That’s sweet, but I promise you don’t have to worry about me. When it comes to Wendy and I, I made my peace with what happened a long time ago. Yes, I was angry, but at the end of the day she’s just somebody I used to know eighteen years ago. I moved on a long time ago. Right now, I’m more worried about Hyuck. He never wants to show it, but my son’s sensitive and after what happened, I don’t want her to unsettle him even more.”

Taeyong hummed. “I haven’t met him yet, but from what Mark tells me, Donghyuck is a smart boy. I’m sure he’ll know to make the right decision for himself when the time comes. That’s all we can hope for, anyways.”

“I think you’re right.” Johnny took a sip from his mug. “You’re very wise, Taeyong.”

“I like to think I would have been a Ravenclaw if my Hogwarts letter had ever arrived.” Taeyong laughed and Mark was glad for him. For them both, that they had each other.

“But I don’t want to be here and just complain about my problems. How about you? Are you doing okay? Taeil tells me you’re doing a great job at the diner.”

This time, Mark knew for sure that his brother was blushing, could tell by the way he lightly ducked his head.

“I’m really glad Taeil thinks that. I’m trying my best, though cooking at the diner is definitely different to what I was doing before.”

“You’re from New York, right?”

“Queens, but I went to school in Manhattan.”

Mark saw a flicker of hesitation on Johnny’s face, and then it gave way to honesty. “Taeyong?”

“Mhm?”

“Mark told me about what he did.”

Mark watched as his brother’s entire body stilled. “Did—” Taeyong cleared his throat, dry from fear. “Did he tell you about me as well?”

Johnny nodded. “Yes.”

“Oh.”

Mark could see it in the way his brother’s shoulders moved, how his instincts to fight or flight tore Taeyong in different directions before flight won out. His chair scraped over the ground as he stood up. Taeyong had never been much of a fighter. That was Mark’s job.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“No, please.” Johnny was on his feet just as quickly, laying a hand on Taeyong’s arm. Mark was surprised that it was enough to get Taeyong to settle back down. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up and we definitely don’t have to talk about it. Let’s pretend I didn’t say anything.”

Taeyong shook his head as he buried his face in his hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Why?” Johnny’s brows furrowed with honest concern. “From what Mark told me, it wasn’t your fault.”

“That doesn’t really change anything, though. Everybody has seen that video of me. There’s nothing I can do to erase it. Did you know my name _trended_ on PornHub for weeks after the news broke?”

“I didn’t know that,” Mark was surprised by how firm Johnny’s voice sounded, “but I’m genuinely sorry that this happened to you. It’s terrible that you had your privacy violated like that.”

“Truth be told, I don’t even think that’s what got to me the most.”

Mark furrowed his brows. He had never heard his brother talk about it like this before.

“When I decided to leave the city, that was because of the video, yes, but I think I could have dealt with the stares and I could have found a different school for Mark, but I also thought that…if my ex did something like that to keep me from leaving him, he might actually kill me the next time I tried. And I wanted to be gone before that could ever happen.”

Johnny grew quiet, his coffee forgotten as he stared at Taeyong and Mark forced his jaw to unclench so he could breathe past the anger rising in his chest. In the jumble of his thoughts, he tried to imagine a solar eclipse.

“Sometimes I’m still scared he’ll come find me. I know it’s irrational. After what Mark did to him, he learned to stay away, but at times I still feel like Hell isn’t far away enough.”

“Well,” Johnny pressed his lips into a thin line and Mark was unsettled by how scary it made him look. “If that’s ever the case, I may not have a baseball bat, but I have a 12-gauge shotgun and a direct line to the Sheriff’s department.”

This time, Taeyong grew still for a different reason. “You’d do that?”

“I would,” Johnny replied without hesitation. “What that man did was despicable, and he did it to _you._ Also, your brother is the reason why I still have a son, so I say line ‘em right up. If your shitty ex ever dares to set a foot into this town, I promise I’ll give him one Hell of a welcome.”

Taeyong laughed as he covered his face with the sleeves of his sweater. “Was that a pun?”

Johnny grinned. “Hyuckie hates it when I make them, but you’re new so I can still impress you.”

“Well, I’m very impressed.”

Mark felt the distinct urge to throw up at the sweet, swooning undertone that had crept in Taeyong’s voice and so he slowly took a step backwards, then another. His bed was calling for him and he was sure that for once, Taeyong could handle himself.

“I’m glad,” was the last thing he heard Johnny say. “And for what it’s worth, I’m very glad you moved here, Taeyong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Mark is paid one Hell of a visit.  
>   
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/taeyongseo)  
> [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/taeyongseo)  
>   
> [the official tdc playlist](http://open.spotify.com/playlist/3YEKeV2un8uCm32Zu3jSDS?si=Mwks7_9_RMCAGrRcuQRn_g)  
> [fanart of tdc!mark](http://twitter.com/seodamnfine/status/1173335944839270401?s=20)  
> fanart of [tdc!nomin]() | [tdc!taeyong](http://twitter.com/snowkingdom6/status/1185616826539171840?s=20) | [tdc!johnny](http://twitter.com/snowkingdom6/status/1175877204355534849?s=20)


	11. Pink Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long journey has come to an end. I can't thank everyone who gave this story a chance enough. Thank you for every encouraging word that pulled me to the finish line, and every smile or tear you gave these characters of mine. I hope you all find your dreams coming true. 
> 
>  
> 
> [[background music]](http://open.spotify.com/playlist/3YEKeV2un8uCm32Zu3jSDS?si=Mwks7_9_RMCAGrRcuQRn_g)

Mark leaned back against the backdoor of the truck. He dug his teeth into his thumb until Donghyuck, sitting on the passenger seat with the door open, slapped his hand away. Mark let out a protestant grunt, but kept his hands by his side. He decided to wiggle his leg instead.

When Donghyuck raised an eyebrow at him, he tried to play it off as excitement, not fear. What he was afraid of, Mark wasn’t sure about himself, but he needed to find some outlet for the nervous energy tingling in his body or he was afraid he might’ve exploded. And he really didn’t want to inconvenience Johnny like this, after the older man had already been nice enough to offer both his truck and his driving services for free.

“The bus should come any minute,” Johnny said while opening the bed latches of the truck.

Mark smiled at him, waiting until Johnny had seen before he fixed his eyes back on the long stretch of forest-framed road in front of them.  

It felt weird, knowing that in a few minutes, his old world would collide with his new one. Something about the thought made his heart rabbit in his chest, but he felt his nerves calm when Donghyuck   snaked his arms around his neck from behind, pulling Mark to stand between his legs as he rested his chin on Mark’s shoulder.

“Are you nervous?”

Mark smiled, simply because Donghyuck was warm and cared enough to ask. “No.”

Donghyuck laughed into his ear. “Liar.”

Mark staggered for a moment with how familiar this moment was to him, a déjà-vu from a dream he had once had. But this time he wasn’t dreaming.

He pulled himself together. “I know it’s ridiculous and it hasn’t even been two weeks since I’ve last seen them, but I think I have changed. I’m scared they might not recognise me anymore. It’s stupid, but that’s just how I feel.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“Always.”

Donghyuck hummed, his hair tickling Mark’s temple as he pressed their cheeks together before he pulled away, leaving Mark’s back cold with the absence of his warmth. “I think that I don’t know who you were before you came here, but the current version of you is pretty good. You don’t have to worry.”

Mark turned around to look him in the eye. “ _Pretty_ good?”

Donghyuck grinned. “Amazing, show-stopping, wouldn’t trade you for anything in the—”

They were interrupted by the unmistakable backfire of an engine in the distance and Mark felt all the nervousness that he had lost in the ease of Donghyuck’s smile return to him as he watched the bus appear at the end of the road. The bus itself was a rickety model, old enough that the entire coach moved up and down with every pothole. Mark peered through the windows and spotted the familiar frame of two, no three people that meant the most to him in the world. The bus came to a halt at their stop with shrieking breaks and Mark stepped away from the car and towards the doors when they opened.

The wind was knocked out of him not a moment later when he was tackled to the ground.

“Markie!” Yukhei cheered into his ear.

The nervousness inside Mark turned into excitement, bubbling up his throat as he laughed. “Dude!”

He clapped his best friend on the back, trying to wriggle away from the slobbery kiss Yukhei planted on the side of his face. Yukhei was undeterred, squeezing him until Mark felt like his lungs may never inflate again.

“Get off of him, Xuxi, you’re crushing him.”

Mark felt his heart sink at the familiar voice and blinked up against the sun, squinting as it was obscured by slender shoulders and the familiar face of his other best friend. Mark grunted when Yukhei’s knee hit him in the crotch as he rolled off of him, but all that didn’t matter because then Renjun was bending down, grasping onto his hands and pulling him into a hug that Mark had yearned for since the moment he had left Queens.

“Renjun.” Mark felt his throat go tight.

“Hey, Mark,” Renjun mumbled into his ear. He squeezed Mark tightly, his hands coming up to pat Mark on the shoulders before he let go.

Before Mark could say any more, both of them were grabbed by the neck and pulled into another bear hug.

“This is the best moment of my life,” Yukhei sobbed out as he pressed both of their faces into his chest.

Renjun was the first to free himself, wriggling out from under Yukhei’s arm before hitting him in the chest. “That’s what you said about the instant ramen we had at the airport too.”

“Not true,” Yukhei whined. “Markie, you know I love you more than instant ramen, yeah?”

“I know.” Mark patted the arm that was currently crushing his wind pipe and Yukhei finally let him go.

“Hey, guys! Hi, Mark!” They all turned around at the voice that called out to them. “A little help?”

Mark laughed as he saw Hendery trying to get down the stairs of the bus, bulking under the weight of three bags and the big suitcase he was pulling behind that knocked into his ankles with every step he managed. With a yelp, Yukhei ran over to help him out.

Mark watched with amusement as the twins tried to get both themselves and their luggage down the narrow stairs. Yukhei finally managed to shoulder their bags on one arm while Hendery went down the stairs straddling the suitcase, nearly bowling Yukhei over once he hit the ground.

The doors of the bus closed behind them with a loud hiss and through the window Mark could see that the bus driver looked more than a little relieved to finally get rid of the three noisy teenagers that had occupied his bus for the better part of four hours, answering Hendery’s enthusiastic wave goodbye with a forced smile. Renjun next to him let out a soft snort.

Watching Yukhei help his brother dismount his suitcase, Mark couldn’t help but ask, “You let Hendery come with you?”

Renjun raised an eyebrow at him. “You think he was going to stay in his cave after Yukhei let slip that this place is called Hell?”

Renjun pointed at where Hendery was currently taking selfies with the Hell town sign, throwing up peace signs while Yukhei anxiously hovered beside him, their bags lying forgotten on the ground.

“Fair,” Mark conceded.

They both flinched when Hendery let out a blood-curdling scream. He had taken a step too far to the side and landed in the ditch that ran along the side of the street.

“Henny!” Yukhei cried out as he fell to his knees to pull him back out. “Get out of there! I told you to be careful!”

Well aware that Yukhei had spent the past nineteen years ensuring his twin brother didn’t fall, bump, stumble or accidentally hurl himself into an early death, Mark decided to leave them to it.

He threw an arm around Renjun’s shoulder as he lead him towards the car. Much to Mark’s relief, Donghyuck was right where he had left him, his healthy leg swinging back and forth as he waited for them to come over.

“Renjun, this is Donghyuck. He’s my…” Mark floundered for a moment, finding both Donghyuck and Renjun looking at him expectantly before he cleared his throat. “Uh, he’s my Donghyuck. Donghyuck, this is Renjun, my best friend from home.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Donghyuck said in a voice that was way politer than his usual tone and maybe it would have made Mark laugh if it hadn’t charged the air between them in such a weird way.

Renjun didn’t seem to notice as he took the hand Donghyuck proffered.

“Hi.” He grinned before adjusting his snapback. “This your car?”

“No, it’s mine,” Johnny said as he came around the hood. He offered Renjun his hand just like Donghyuck had done and this time, Renjun hesitated a second before he took it. “I’m Donghyuck’s dad, on driver duty today. You can call me Johnny.”

“Renjun.”

“Nice to meet you, Renjun.” Johnny’s smile was genuine as he let go of Renjun’s hand. “A friend of Mark’s is always welcome in Hell.”

“Oh, introductions? Hey, Mark! Mark!” Mark’s knees nearly buckled when Yukhei appeared by his side, a streak of dirt caked on his cheek. “Oregonna introduce us?”

There was a moment of pronounced silence before Mark groaned and Donghyuck let out a bout of clear laughter.

Renjun rolled his eyes. “Please, don’t entertain him. He’s been working on that one since the airport.”

“It’s funny.” Yukhei frowned before pointing at Donghyuck, an easy grin overtaking his features. “See, he thinks it’s funny! What’s up, man? I’m Yukhei.”

“Donghyuck,” Donghyuck grinned.

“I’m Hendery,” Hendery added and Mark couldn’t help himself. He pulled the other boy into a hug, ruffling his hair until Hendery was giggling.

“You really left your room for me?” Mark nearly yelled into his ear, feeling giddy with having his best friends back in arm’s reach.

Hendery nodded, preening under the attention.

Mark shook his head, feeling touched. “Aren’t you missing any important satanic rituals or something?”

Johnny let out a concerned noise.

“My brother is part of a cult,” Yukhei whisper-explained to him and a very interested-looking Donghyuck. 

“It’s not a cult,” Hendery directed at his twin before deigning Mark with a brilliant smile. “I’m here on an official mission. Hell is supposed to have some of the oldest woods in the States, so I’m gauging the real estate. Dejun even gave me his unblessing so that I’d find something.”

“Definitely a cult,” Yukhei muttered under his breath.

“All right, boys,” Johnny clapped his hands, “it’s nice to all meet you, but I promised Taeyong I’d have you all home for dinner so we probably should get going.”

“Dibs on a window seat!” Hendery called out before heading for the back door.

“The lumberjack knows Taeyong?” Renjun asked quietly as he followed Mark to load their luggage onto the bed of the truck.

Mark laughed despite himself. “Trust me, that’s not even half of it.”

Renjun hummed, peering into the driver’s cab through the back window. The fact that they were alone for a moment made Mark want to ask questions, all the questions he hadn’t been able to ask Renjun before, like why Renjun had ghosted him and whether he remembered the voicemail Mark had left him, but Mark knew that now was not the time to have this conversation. He could read in Renjun’s eyes that Renjun knew just as well as Mark that they had to talk, but for the moment he’d have to be patient.

They finished loading up the luggage and Mark sent Renjun ahead to the driver’s cab while he did the latches up. Johnny’s truck was ridiculously big, but even so the backseat was a tight fit for four people. In the end, Mark ended up pressed against the window while Renjun squeezed himself on Yukhei’s lap, complaining about Hendery’s bony elbow digging into his back while Yukhei pulled his seatbelt over the both of them.

A sharp gasp escaped him when Donghyuck turned on the music. “You like musicals?”

Donghyuck turned around in his seat, raising his eyebrows at him. “Yeah, you got a problem with that?”

“Not at all!” Renjun’s grin turned razor-sharp. “I drag my friends out to see something all the time. Xuxi got me a Broadway pass for my last birthday.”

Yukhei beamed when Renjun pat his shoulder, making Mark snort. 

“Really?” Donghyuck looked a lot more interested now. “What’s your favourite?”

“Recent ones? Definitely Hadestown.”

Donghyuck hummed. “Hadestown is great and all, but they didn’t deserve the Tony Award for Best Scenic Design.”

“Beetlejuice was robbed,” Renjun affirmed easily and Mark watched with bemusement as Donghyuck leaned over the middle console, clutched Renjun’s cheeks between his hands and said, “Where have you been all my life?”

They devolved into excited chatter after that and Mark was content to watch them bicker over which classic musical was _the_ classic musical while Johnny drove them home. Taeyong was waiting on the front porch when they arrived, wrapped up in a big sweater to brave the November cold.

Mark smiled as he watched his brother go through the same enthusiastic greeting that he himself had received, though he held Yukhei back before his bulky friend could come anywhere near tackling Taeyong to the ground in his excitement.

Yukhei accepted this with a pout, but immediately brightened up when Taeyong kissed him on the cheek and complained how long his hair had gotten. In the end, it was Renjun who clung onto Taeyong the most as they walked into the house with their bags and Mark couldn’t help but feel mildly offended.

“I can’t believe this, dude. It looks like you missed Taeyong more than me.”

“Duh,” Renjun said, rubbing his cheek against Taeyong’s shoulder in a way that made the older man giggle. “He makes the best kimchi fried rice in the world! What have you ever done for me, Mark Lee?”

Before Mark could protest and give a very detailed list of every nice deed he had done for Renjun in the past seven years of their best friendship, Taeyong shooed them both upstairs to put the bags away. Mark waited until Yukhei and Hendery had made it to the second floor after them before he began to point out directions.

“Okay, Yukhei, Henny, Taeyong was willing to give up his big bed so you’re going to share the master’s. Renjun, you’re in my room while Taeyong will sleep on the couch downstairs.”

“Aye, Captain!” Yukhei saluted before dragging Hendery off to Taeyong’s room.

Mark followed Renjun into his own, smiling when Renjun flopped down on the bed first, though Renjun jolted upwards as quickly as he had lied down. “Wait, if I’m in your room where will you sleep?”

“With Donghyuck,” Mark explained, willing his heart not to race at the thought. “He offered when he heard that we were one bed short, so I’m going to go over there later.”

Renjun nodded, watching Mark with intelligent eyes and Mark willed the heat that was crawling up his neck to subside.

“Do you like him a lot?”

“I saved his life.”

Renjun smiled. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Mark sighed, closing the door to his room before he joined Renjun on the bed. He was well aware that both Donghyuck and Johnny were currently downstairs, helping Taeyong with the dinner Taeyong had insisted they stay for, so he kept his voice quiet.

“I’m also in love with him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

At Renjun’s shocked expression, he raised a hand. “I know that it sounds crazy. I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks, but there’s so much that has happened that you don’t know and—” 

“I remember your voice mail.” Renjun frowned as he searched Mark’s eyes. “It made me worry. I thought you’d gotten into drugs. I had to call Taeyong and let him explain to me what happened.”  

“Why’d you never call me?” The words came out sounding more hurt than Mark had intended, but he didn’t regret asking. He had to know. He deserved to know, after the two weeks of radio silence he had suffered through.

Renjun’s confession came out not louder than a whisper. “I was scared.”

Mark felt his mouth drop open. “But why would you be?”

“Mark,” Renjun looked up at him and his face was so serious it made Mark feel just as scared as Renjun had said he had been, “I’m not going to sleep in your room tonight. Hendery will.”

“What?” Mark furrowed his brows.

“Hendery will sleep in your room. I’m going to sleep with Yukhei.”

“Oh? Well, okay, but I mean you know he snores, right? Do you really wanna do that to yourself?”

The laugh Renjun let out was pained. “Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to share a bed with Yukhei because we are together. As in, _together_ together. I asked him to be my boyfriend after you left.”

“Oh.”

Mark couldn’t quite hide the surprise he felt at the confession. He had expected a lot of things, but his best friends getting into a relationship with each other had not been one of them. Maybe he was more blind than Donghyuck had ever been.

Then, he supposed, it made sense. Yukhei and Renjun had always treated each other differently than they had Mark. More fragile, more careful. Mark couldn’t count the times that Yukhei had taken the piss out on him, but he couldn’t recall a single time that Yukhei had ever made fun of Renjun. He could see it fit. He just wondered why Renjun had felt the need to hide that from him, hide himself because of it.

“I mean I’m happy for you?”

He was confused by the doubt that lit up in Renjun’s eyes. “You are?”

Mark frowned. “Yeah, of course, man. I mean it’s fucking weird because you two are my best friends, but as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” He shrugged. “Strangers things have happened.”

Renjun seemed crumble with what looked to be relief and it made Mark all the more confused.

“I still don’t get it though. Why didn’t you just tell me? You didn’t have to ghost me.”

“God, _fuck.”_ Renjun pressed his hands against his eyes and for a moment Mark couldn’t tell whether he was laughing or crying. “I felt bad, Mark, I felt so fucking bad. I thought you liked Yukhei and I felt like the shittiest fucking best friend in the world for basically pouncing the moment you left town.”

“Me and Yukhei?” Mark couldn’t suppress the snort. “Why on earth would you ever think that?”

“I don’t know.” Renjun shrugged. “You two were always just so close. Mark and Yukhei, best friends since diapers and then there’s me who didn’t join the gang until middle school. I always just got the impression that what you had was different. Yukhei cancelled on me so many times because he had basketball practice, but I don’t recall him missing a single friday night dinner at yours.”

“Arguably more due to Taeyong’s cooking.” Mark shook his head. “Yukhei and I are like brothers _,_ Renjun, how could you ever think that we’d like each other like that? I didn’t even share my gay crisis with him, I made _you_ sit through that.”

“You both like sports and I’m into artsy stuff? I don’t know.” Renjun looked embarrassed now. “It would have fit.”

“No way in hell,” Mark found himself giggling. “Did I mention he snores? I wouldn’t want to do that to myself for the rest of my life.”

“I do,” Renjun admitted helplessly and it made Mark coo at him.

He received a punch in the guts for it. “Don’t look down on me!”

“I’m not!” Mark promised, wheezing when it looked like Renjun wanted to punch him again. “This entire thing is just so absurd that I have to laugh or otherwise I might cry. I _missed_ you, Renjun, you’re my best friend too and I thought you fucking hated me or something.”

“I kinda hated Taeyong for a little bit when he decided to move your asses to buttfuck nowhere.” Renjun rubbed his nose. “Thought I think I get it now. Yong deserves the world and he looks happier here.”

“No thanks to me.” Mark pulled up his nose. “We’ve been here for less than a month and I already put him through a lot.”

The smile on Renjun’s face was gentle. “I can imagine. He said you ran off in the middle of the night to find Donghyuck when he went missing.”

Mark shrugged. “I had to do something.”

“Hendery also told me about the dreams you had.”

Mark felt his chest clench uncomfortably. He didn’t want Renjun thinking he was crazy. “What do you think?”

“I think that if aliens exist—shut up, they do!—then it’s not unlikely that you dream about a boy that you’ve seen on a poster once.”

“I mean if you say it like that it—wait, what?”

Renjun raised an eyebrow. “The photo you sent Xuxi. Donghyuck’s on it, didn’t you notice?”

“No.” Mark’s heart was racing as he pulled him phone from his pocket. “Where?”

Renjun took the phone from his hands, tapping into his conversation with Yukhei, scrolling up until he had found the photo. He zoomed in before he showed Mark the screen.

Mark felt his heart still as he stared at the image. Next to the tire shop poster that Mark had originally wanted to photograph there was indeed Donghyuck, taking up the centre of the musical flyer that advertised Hell High’s spring musical.

The shot had been taken mid-performance and in it, Donghyuck was wearing a neon orange sweatshirt, his hair streaked with washable pastel colours and his eyes shining bright as he sang. Haechan, it said his name in the bottom left corner of the poster, right next to the names of all the other kids from Drama Club. Mark swallowed. He reached out, flinching when the screen went black before his fingertips could graze the image.

“Mark,” Renjun looked concerned as he lowered Mark’s phone. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m—” He didn’t know. He didn’t know whether he was fine. He had spent so long wondering what had brought Haechan into his dreams, and now that there was an explanation, he didn’t know whether he wanted to believe it. “I’m fine,” he settled on eventually.

“Are you sure?”

A loud knock on the door made both of them jump and then Yukhei was tumbling into the room, Hendery right behind him.

“Guys, Yong’s been calling you for ages now! Dinner’s ready.”

“Oh, shit!” Mark hurried to get off his bed.

He turned around to help Renjun do the same, but Yukhei was already there.

Mark watched with fascination as Yukhei reached out to take Renjun’s hand, the expression on his face uncharacteristically gentle when his gaze flickered over to Mark and he pulled his hand back. If Mark hadn’t known what was going on, he would have never noticed. As it was now, the whole thing made him snort.

“You can hold your boyfriend’s hand, Yukhei, I’m not going to bite it off if you do.”

Yukhei’s eyebrows raised nearly to the middle of his forehead. “You know?” He turned towards Renjun. “He knows?”

Renjun nodded. “I told him.”

“Oh, thank Satan!” Hendery wailed out. “Trust me, Mark, it _sucked_ being alone with the two of them and not being allowed to say anything in case you might catch wind of it.”

Mark patted his shoulder in sympathy as he walked past him to lead the way downstairs. “I can only imagine.”

Mark could see Taeyong and Johnny tinker with the food in the kitchen, so he made a beeline straight for the living room.

Donghyuck was sitting at the dinner table already, his injured leg propped up on the kitchen stool Taeyong had bought to reach the top shelf of their kitchen cabinets and the sight made Mark smile. Donghyuck looked soft in his hoodie, his silver hair hanging into his eyes as he was frowning down at his phone. His mood seemed to lift immediately when he spotted Mark and Mark was quick to take the seat next to him.

“Everything all right?” he asked, nodding at the phone in Donghyuck’s hand.

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, shoving his phone into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie. “Yeah, it’s just Jaemin.”

Mark wanted to ask, but they weren’t alone.

“Invite him over,” he suggested. “The guys are beat for today so we’re not going to do much more than chill on the couch and watch movies. Jaemin’s welcome to join us.”

“The more friends the better,” Hendery chimed up from his place next to Yukhei.

Donghyuck smiled at him before he nodded, pulling his phone back out of his pocket.

Taeyong came in a moment later, dutifully followed by Johnny, who was balancing a huge dish in his arms. Mark thought that he could see Yukhei wipe a tear out of his eye.  

“Yong,” Mark asked curiously, “are you here to feed an army?”

“I wasn’t sure how hungry you’d be, so I made a lot.”

“A lot is perfect,” Renjun said, while Yukhei and Hendery nodded eagerly.

“It smells amazing, Taeyong,” Johnny said and Mark could feel Renjun look at him questioningly when Taeyong blushed.

“Okay, enough of the praise.” Taeyong took his seat at the head of the table, hiding his smile behind the sleeves of his sweater. “Let’s eat!”

In between Donghyuck ignoring the incessant vibrations of his phone and Yukhei actually crying over how good Taeyong’s food was, dinner was an uneventful affair. Mark revelled in the presence of his friends, in the warmth of Donghyuck next to him and he could even appreciate how Johnny’s sporadic contributions to the conversation made Taeyong laugh.

They migrated to the couch afterwards. Originally, Mark had planned to help Taeyong wash the dishes, but Johnny relieved him of that job and one look at his brother’s face when Johnny rolled up the sleeves of his flannel had Mark walking right back out of the kitchen. He returned to the living room to find Donghyuck and Renjun on the couch with their heads stuck together, having picked up their musical discussion where they had left off. Yukhei and Hendery were arguing in front of the DVD player.

“It’s my turn!” Hendery grabbed the basket holding the Lee family DVD collection. “You chose last time!”

“Nah, these are special circumstances. It’s Mark’s house. He should choose!”

“I choose whatever Hendery chooses,” Mark said easily as he fell next to Donghyuck on the couch. He was pleased when Donghyuck leaned into him, his head coming to rest on Mark’s shoulder.

Hendery let out a triumphant noise while Yukhei groaned. “Fine, but don’t blame me if he chooses some occult horror movie again. Or Twilight.”

“Twilight is a classic!”

“I’ve never seen it,” Donghyuck mentioned, his eyes glued back to his phone.

Mark felt his heart skip a beat. Before any more arguing could ensue, they were all interrupted when the door to the living room swung open and Jaemin walked in. Mark wasn’t surprised to see that Jeno was following right behind him.

He got up to greet them both and introduce them to the rest of his friends from home, finding that it was almost comical watching Yukhei and Jeno interact. It was like watching two puppies figuring out they both loved sunshine and rainbows and pec fly exercises and Mark might have been just as enthralled as Renjun and Hendery seemed to be by this development, hadn’t he been distracted by Jaemin, whose smile was just a tad too tight to be genuine as he sat down on the far end of the couch.  

It made Mark worry. He knew something was up from what Donghyuck had said about his texts to Jaemin, but he hadn’t expected Jaemin to come if he didn’t feel well. Yet here he was, as charming and polite as ever, if only he hadn’t looked a minute away from crying, as much as the low lighting helped him hide it. Mark wanted to talk to him, but he couldn’t call out Jaemin in front of everyone else, so he resorted himself to sitting back for the moment. A look at Donghyuck’s concerned face told him that he was just as aware as Mark that something was going on.

Nonetheless, they nearly made it through the first movie without any major incident. Somewhere around the hour mark, Mark turned his head to find Renjun fast asleep on Yukhei’s shoulder. Yukhei was watching him instead of the movie and the gentle, almost reverent expression on his face made Mark think that he, much like Renjun, must have been blind to never notice it before.

The moment was broken for Mark when suddenly there was a noise like a hiccup from the other end of the couch and then Jaemin was stalking over legs and blankets to get past the couch and to the door.

“Bathroom,” he pressed out as Mark caught his gaze.

Mark might have believed him if Jeno hadn’t been halfway on his feet to follow him and he hadn’t seen the real tears shining in Jaemin’s eyes. He struggled for a moment deciding what to do, but then Donghyuck made to get up, a slow whimper escaping him when he set down his broken leg too hastily.

Mark held him back, gently pushing him back into the cushions. “I’ll go.”

Donghyuck looked like he wanted to protest for a moment, but then he sighed, giving in. “Tell them they’re both stupid from me.”  

Mark tried to give him as much of an optimistic smile as he could muster before he got up. Once he had quietly closed the door of the living room behind himself, he closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts.

 He bypassed the kitchen where he could see Taeyong and Johnny sitting at the kitchen table, sharing a bottle of wine and headed for the stairs instead. He could hear the bathroom door upstairs open and if nothing else, Mark figured he had to try and salvage Taeyong’s high-end skincare products lined up on the bathroom counter.

The stairs gave a low creak when Mark reached the top floor, but he figured Jeno and Jaemin were a little too busy arguing to hear him approach. He figured that one of them must have tried to throw the bathroom door shut instead of locking it properly, because the door was ajar, granting Mark a first-class view of what was going on even from the other end of the hallway.

Jaemin was leaned back against the bathroom counter, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.” Jeno frowned a he took a step forward, grasping onto Jaemin’s shoulders. “It matters to me, Jaem, please just talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I can’t believe you really don’t know. You’re so incredibly thick, Jeno, do you know that?”

Jeno frowned as he looked down at himself. “Actually, my coach says I’ve lost weight.”

Jaemin groaned and attempted to free himself, but Jeno didn’t let him go very far. Instead, he threw his arms around Jaemin’s middle, using his entire body strength in a desperate attempt to hold him in place.

“No,” Jeno’s voice sounded surprisingly fragile, “please don’t run away, Jaem. You always do. Please just explain to me what’s wrong this time. I hate to see you cry. I hate it even more when I have to think it’s because of me.”

Jaemin went silent for a long time, his shoulders shaking with quiet, weakening sobs as Jeno held him to make it all better.

“But it _is_ because of you, Jeno.”

Mark watched Jeno’s shell-shocked expression unfold in the mirror, his eyes going wide as he accidentally squeezed Jaemin too tightly. “What?”

Jaemin let out a bitter laugh before he pushed Jeno away. Jeno tried to close the distance between them, but Jaemin held him back with a single hand against his chest.

“I’m really—” Jaemin’s eyes fell to the floor—”stupidly, pathetically in love with you, Jeno Lee, and the fact that you will never realise this has been breaking my heart for too long, so I’d really appreciate it if you could leave me alone. I want to cry in this bathroom in peace. I know you don’t love me back, but can you do that for me? Please?”

Mark thought that Jeno couldn’t have looked more surprised if Jaemin had slapped him. “You’re in love with me?”

Jaemin closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks, dripped onto the ground between them. “Yeah, isn’t that terrible?”

Jeno frowned. “No.” He grabbed onto the hand that was still placed on his chest, used it to pull Jaemin against him. “Jaemin,” he whispered, swaying them back and forth while Jaemin sobbed against his chest. “Jaem, Nana, Jaemin Jung.”

“What?” Jaemin finally managed to rasp out, clearly using his annoyed tone to avoid Jeno’s eyes.

Jeno smiled at him. “Remember when you broke your back the summer before freshman year and you, Hyuck and I spent the entire three months holed up in your room, watching all thirteen seasons of Grey’s Anatomy?”

Jaemin blinked at him in confusion. “Yeah?”

“I fucking hate Grey’s Anatomy.” Jeno’s smile broadened. “There is no chance in hell this many catastrophes befall a single hospital.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Jaemin frowned, digging his tip of his shoe into the ground. “We could have watched something else.”

“Because that summer, knowing whether the blond lady and McDreamy get together in the end seemed to be the only thing keeping you going, Jaemin, and I would have sat through every single doctor romance show on the planet if it meant seeing you smile. I think that’s when I realised that I loved you. Thirteen seasons, and I only ever watched you.”

“Jeno—”

“I really hate seeing you cry.” Jeno’s smile fell as he brushed his thumb over Jaemin’s cheek. “Please don’t cry anymore, Jaem. Not because of me.”

“But what about Donghyuck?”

Jeno’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What about him?”

“You—” Mark could hear doubt creeping into Jaemin’s voice. “You like him. You pay so much attention to him, much more than me.”

“I pay attention to him because he’s my best friend, Jaemin, not because I’m in love with him. Not like I’m in love with you, anyways.”

Jaemin shook his head. “Then why is he allowed to come to all of yours practices while I’m not even allowed to come near the pool? Why do you take him to photograph your away competitions when I’m the one who has an actual DSLR camera?”

“Because I don’t have to push anyone in the pool if they look at him funny. Because I’m not so distracted when he’s there that I might miss the gun.” Jeno sighed. “I keep you away from the pool because I’m selfish, Jaem, and I want you too much for myself to let you walk into a room with a dozen other half-naked guys. Is it that hard to believe that I love you too?”

Jaemin shook his head, his voice small. “No, I believe you. It seems too good to be true, but I really want this, so…”

The smile that overtook Jeno’s face was slow and forceful enough to turn his eyes into crescent moons. “It is true. I love you, Jaemin. I’m really stupidly, pathetically in love with you too.”

Jaemin pulled up his nose before a tiny smile made its way onto his face. He let Jeno intertwine their fingers. “It’s weird, having your dream come true.”

Jeno grinned, his movements gentle as he swayed them back and forth. “Let’s dream together, then.”

Mark left before he could see either of them lean in.

*

Mark watched the sky turn from purple to pink as he sat on the roof of the Seo house, waiting for the sun to rise. He had found that his suspicions were true, it was easy to climb out of Donghyuck’s window and use the roof’s protrusion to find a place to sit. This far away from the city, he could see the stars.

He could also see his own house from here, dark and silent while all his family was asleep inside. Even Jeno and Jaemin, who had been gently bullied by Taeyong to take the sofa once the clock had struck two a.m. and he had deemed it too late for them to go home. Taeyong himself had ended up joining Mark to find refuge at the Seo’s.

Mark thought about Donghyuck, fast asleep in his bed. Mark had slept on an air mattress on the floor, graciously provided by Johnny, until his bladder had woken him up and then he had decided to watch the sunrise instead. He didn’t regret his decision as he watched the sky turn colours in front of his eyes, the sight mighty enough that he almost missed the small huff that came from near the window. It was followed by two hands appearing on the window sill and then Donghyuck was hoisting himself out of the window.

Mark nearly broke his neck in his haste to crawl over and prevent him from tumbling off the roof. Slipping his arms around Donghyuck’s waist, he pulled them both to safety, waiting until Donghyuck was safely sitting beside him before he started to yell, “Are you crazy? You could’ve fallen and—”

“—broken my leg?” Donghyuck smirked at him and huffed, his hand coming down on Mark’s shoulder to adjust his seat. “Stop worrying, Mark Lee, and make some space.”

“Donghyuck,” Mark couldn’t believe this, “what are you doing here?”

“Uh, I could ask you the same thing? This is my roof. Besides, I had to come up here.” Donghyuck shrugged.

Mark knew that there was little sense in arguing with Donghyuck, so he resorted to making sure Donghyuck was safely away from the edge. “Why?”

“Because it’s where you are.” Donghyuck’s eyes found the sunrise and he smiled. “And I’m sick of not being able to do things because I broke my leg. So much fucking ruckus and all because I couldn’t keep my head straight and fell into a hole in the woods.”

“I remember when I found you.” It was not a memory Mark liked to revisit, but he thought that he needed to share it with Donghyuck. It was just as much Donghyuck’s memory as his own. “I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared in my life as I was when I saw you lying in that ditch.”

Donghyuck hummed. He kept his eyes on the horizon. “I never said thank you for finding me. You didn’t have to do that. You…didn’t even know me.”

“I found you.” Mark closed his eyes to mask his lie. “Whether I knew you or not, that’s all that matters. I found you.”

Donghyuck smiled, his head coming to rest on Mark’s shoulder. “You did.”

They sat in silence for a while, Mark counting the beats of his heart as they watched the sky change colours.

“My mom called.” Donghyuck eventually admitted into the crisp dawn air. “She said she wants to meet with me again. At a coffee shop or something.”

“Will you go?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to figure it out now. She made you wait eighteen years. You can make her wait as long as you want.”

Donghyuck smiled as he pushed his hand into his pocket, his eyes brighter than the rising sun when he looked at Mark. “I made you something.” 

Mark raised a questioning eyebrow and Donghyuck pulled his hand out of his pocket. In his palm was a neon-pink friendship bracelet.

“For me?” Mark reverently ran his fingers along the braided strings. There were two charms hanging from the bracelet, one a little D and the other and angel wing.

“Because you’re my guardian angel,” Donghyuck explained as Mark took the bracelet from his hand.

“I love it.” Mark smiled, feeling his heart open. “Will you put it on me?”

Donghyuck nodded, barely able to hide his smile as he tied the ends around Mark’s wrist.

“I’ll never take this off,” Mark promised and Donghyuck beamed at him, brighter than the sunrise before he pressed their foreheads together.

Mark could hear him inhale, gathering his courage and where his heart was wide open, it filled, entangling with Donghyuck’s the way the strings of his bracelet were intertwined. Mark felt the warmth of Donghyuck’s breath against his lips, his fingers digging into the skin of Mark’s nape before he lightly tilted his head. Another inhale, and Donghyuck pressed their mouths together.

The kiss was short and dry and enough to make Mark’s head spin.

He could feel Donghyuck smile against his lips before he pulled away, just enough to breathe. Chasing after him came instinctually to Mark by now and he was glad when Donghyuck allowed him to follow as he lowered his back to the roof, cupping Mark’s face to pull him back in.

“I really hoped for this.”

“I love you,” Mark replied, because it was the truth.

The skin of Donghyuck’s stomach was warm when Mark slipped his hand under the hem of his shirt and he revelled in the way Donghyuck shuddered, his lips parting enough so Mark could slip his tongue into his mouth. They kissed slowly, reverently and Mark allowed himself to get lost in the feeling, lost in Donghyuck until he let his head fall back against the roof tiles to breathe.

There was a blush rising high on his cheeks and Mark had never seen a prettier colour. His eyes fluttered shut when Donghyuck cupped the side of his face.

“Sometimes I think I must have dreamt of you before.”

Mark felt his heart skip a beat. He opened his eyes. “Why’s that?”

Donghyuck’s gaze softened, the rising sun painting streaks of orange onto his face. “Because I feel safe with you.”

The smile on his face was so gentle Mark felt that he might never feel rage again as long as he had Donghyuck look at him like that.

“I’m glad.” He willed himself not to choke up on the emotions he felt.

“My saviour,” Donghyuck hummed.

Mark lowered himself down next to him, bedding his head on Donghyuck’s chest. He could have spent an eternity listening to the steady beating of his heart. At some point, Donghyuck began to hum and Mark wanted to ask what song it was, but he figured that he could do that tomorrow. Tomorrow, or any other day that followed. For now, he was content letting Donghyuck run a hand through his hair as he slowly felt his eyelids drift shut.

The last thing he felt was a gentle brush of fingertips against his cheek, the quiet trill of Donghyuck’s laughter sending him off. “Sleep well, Dream.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all that we see or seem, is nothing but a dream within a dream.  
>   
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/taeyongseo)  
> [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/taeyongseo)  
>   
> [the official tdc playlist](http://open.spotify.com/playlist/3YEKeV2un8uCm32Zu3jSDS?si=Mwks7_9_RMCAGrRcuQRn_g)  
>   
> [cover fanart for tdc!markhyuck](http://twitter.com/outlawofideal/status/1192820097171304449?s=20)  
> [fanart of tdc!hendery](http://twitter.com/n_ikuman/status/1193255254281916416?s=21)  
> [fanart of tdc!mark](http://twitter.com/seodamnfine/status/1173335944839270401?s=20)  
> fanart of [tdc!nomin]() | [tdc!taeyong](http://twitter.com/snowkingdom6/status/1185616826539171840?s=20) | [tdc!johnny](http://twitter.com/snowkingdom6/status/1175877204355534849?s=20)


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